I cannot explain the record of my own thoughts
Because a true loving heart rarely ever beats
And a true harmonic harmony rarely ever sings
of those who have died, and those who are long dead
I cannot condone any of my own apologies
Because liars never lie, simply misconstrue the truth
And writers never write, simply misconstrue the words
of those who have died, and those who are long dead
I cannot express any more of my own condolences
Because a funeral is not the proper mourning of the loss
And a wedding is not the proper symbol of the bond
Of those who have died, and those who are long dead
I cannot grasp the false sense of my own sanctity
Because artists always disregard the eyes of creativity
And Optimists always peek through the eyes of negativity
Of those who have died, and those who are long dead
By Asha Hopkins
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 4:14 PM UTC
I cannot explain the record of my own thoughts
Because a true loving heart rarely ever beats
And a true harmonic harmony rarely ever sings
of those who have died, and those who are long dead
I cannot condone any of my own apologies
Because liars never lie, simply misconstrue the truth
And writers never write, simply misconstrue the words
of those who have died, and those who are long dead
I cannot express any more of my own condolences
Because a funeral is not the proper mourning of the loss
And a wedding is not the proper symbol of the bond
Of those who have died, and those who are long dead
I cannot grasp the false sense of my own sanctity
Because artists always disregard the eyes of creativity
And Optimists always peek through the eyes of negativity
Of those who have died, and those who are long dead
By Asha Hopkins
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