• So many phrases, I want to recite;
    but, stopping me, this force, this might.
    In truth there's only holding back, but write
    and be expressed, veritically tonight.


    Happyness is all I wish,
    but your's should come before my own.
    Infront of you, I hold thy dish,
    in hope that it'll be grown.


    You took me, apart to speak;
    but, I recall it as a shriek.
    I fount what, I longly seeked;
    which is, to build, a line, a streak.

    And in it, to dig and fill,
    with what's left of my happyness, still.
    Hope that in it, shall grow my will;
    but, broad and tall trees, to stop this chill.


    Come with me, oh! shining princess.
    That you may share, your boundless blistness
    and with that smile, my heart thou rinses.