Lost Love Poem by Savio Antonio Vogt

I play my violen down the clouded cold street,
I know its tough, too hard to beat.
some say I'm mad and some say medicine I've had.
but to me, my heart is wounded,
so wounded, that in society I'm black rounded.
I lost my love, she's so soft as a dove that my hand slipped
never to grasp again, so soft, so soft she is.
I roam and roam and never go home,
the people closed their doors,
they all think, what's going to happen next, who knows? ,
but all that matters to me is my heart was torn appart.
I wonder if it could be fixed.
I really wonder how it would be fixed.
I'd pray for someone to come, one day.
I'd pray for someone to fix it.
I'd really pray.