Where do I feign to forego,
when you fear to think the worst.
Just about when I re-alter the verse,
a crack in my heart occured.
In this misfortune,
made all too soon.
I'm Afraid, I've made,
an utter fool.
For disowning,
and then breaking,
your Poor,
Wonderful Heart.
Reinterpreting,
what your interpreting.
When made up,
in your own mind's making.
Though we know,
by chapter and verse.
what cannot be,
what's become between.
Words so well rehearsed.
will always fail to express,
the process,
of breaking,
Your Poor,
Wonderful Heart.
To be left,
with the memories,
attached to the emotions.
whom once had emerge,
Then all those feelings,
of such reveries,
dissipate, turn ulgy.
Only then to converge.
When I fail to find the words.
It's a horror,
In of its own knowing,
dismantling,
while pulling apart,
your poor,
wonderful heart.
I kept on tinkering,
while about thinking,
all will be well,
when idle whispering.
What will construe,
to come true,
from constraining,
all feeling,
and no reason
for breaking,
your poor,
wonderful heart.
- - - - oh yeah and then this bit.**********
Sorry seems an over familiar word.
And sorry seems,
an over used, excuse of a word.
To say sorry,
is really,
to mean nothing.
To mean what you really want,
is likely to make,
or forsake,
for wont of a word,
that never fails to break,
your poor,
wonderful heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It would be wonderful when shorter.