Which words could I say to accurately convey-
- the thoughts behind, and within, my mind?
Yes- tis' true! I wonder: how to portray, and rhyme,
these not so kind thoughts enshrined- in my mind.
Never mind; I'll get around to it another time-
- once I'm adequately inspired by a bottle o' wine.

My dearest girl, wipe those weeping eyes o' yours;
surely, you must know: everyone cries and feels sore
- sometimes; it makes us appreciate the sunshine.
My sweet girl, don't simply resort to the red wine
- in an attempt to ease your, oh so, numb mind.
We may never be able to rewind; this is true.
All I can hope for is a beautiful future for you.
If I could be a part of it, I would really love;
but- if not, I know we've got people up above
- watching down over each and every one of us.
So if you're ever wondering if it gets better:
- know, in your heart, that it does.

"Apple trees with broken branches still stand strong."
I believe this is true; please correct me, if I'm wrong.
Axe weildin man thinks it may bear fruit o' nutrition.
To let it grow to fruition- or not: t'is a grand decision.
With precision, man with an axe allows it to stand.
He thinks, "I mustn't be impatient- nor demand-
fruit from this tree. I must let it be. I must wait n' see
just exactly how much this ole' apple tree blesses me."

We may not ever, truly, know
- where- after death- we all go;
I just hope we end up together-
- or I may as well burn up forever.
For- without you: I know not what to do..
& without you: I'll always be feeling blue.
Without you: the skies, winds, and the weather
- all seem to change frantically (like a feather-
that's been blown, thrown, into hot burning embers).
Without you: this life needs not my members-
hip.

Dearest Cassandra,
I'm very sorry for whom I've, lately, been
- and for the person that I will not ever be.
I, truly, wish that I could have, ever, seen
- whatever it is that you smile at in me.
I wish that I could see: why you crave a mess
- a mess as tragic as this- troubled mind.
You see: I see- myself as, very much, less
- than you see me with your eyes- so kind.
I have never seen what you- adore about me
- and, honestly, I likely never, ever, will.
When I look into the mirror, all that I can see
- is a man, or a boy, broken from all o' thee powders n' pills.

She was negative on the test-
and, though part of me was depressed,
I knew- deep down- it was for the best.
I nearly caused such a disastrous mess
and now I feel slightly less- stressed.
Now she can move on- and make progress
- without me around - to drag her down.

My head really hurts
  and I can't find the words
  to express how I feel;
  the mental silence is real.
The problem, however,
  is that it's not silent- ever.
There's always a dull noise;
  it's untranslatable to young boys
  upon this wide world- Earth.
What, I ask, would it be worth
  to try to find some truth
  in a mythical language that you
  do not fluently speak?