Amidst the luscious valley,
covered in varying greens,
sits a desperate soul,
absorbing the beautiful scene.

Outlined by the mountains,
this ivory tower seems small,
yet, like most things-from outside,
you simply don't see it all.

The lonely heart that beats,
does so, with furious hope,
for these whispering voices,
make it impossible to cope.

Bearing the depths of need,
leaves an invisible scar,
through the heart of lies,
I can only see so far.

Like the clouds of winter,
judgement is thick and hazy,
even submerged in beauty,
one can still go crazy.

The power of love is,
a curse from which I suffer,
withheld is the extent of yours,
therefore making it rougher.