She always felt too many things,
For anyone else and herself.
A good deed's a reward in of itself,
Yet she drowns in the pain it brings.

How long can this heart keep beating;
It's valves clogged with webbing and dust?
Doses of envy, gluttony, and lust,
They dig deep within; they sting.

A moment's joy is stolen away,
Any hope of love long since forgotten,
Her soul overgrown, gnarled and rotten.
It's within silence she chooses to stay.

Feelings renege by living causality;
A defence against feeling too much.
Those desires for contentedness, joy, and such,
Could only make way for apathy.