Massacre

The heart bleeds
The eyes turn to a seasonal stream
For the lost moments
The empty words
Unreal feelings
Non-existent expectations
Lost and broken promises
For the affection lost
The hope lost

It’s not the death of people
But the loss of reality
And the entrance of abstract
The loss of a Hope
The loss of Affection
The loss of bright dreams – as they were
The loss of the warm touch
The loss of the beautiful look
The loss of a true self
The loss of vigor

When affection is suddenly cut off
Or silently ignored and let to disintegrate
When a warm touch is withdrawn
When the hollow in the hall is dark and cold
When the draught comes in with all the world’s troubles

When words unspoken
Tend to hurt more than words spoken
When rare glances not caught
Turn to evil stares
When that graceful smile
Turns to a hurtful sneer
When the trust that once was
Turns to suspicion
When contentment turns to dissatisfaction
When admiration turns to resentment
Strong are words unspoken
Hurtful are glances unseen
Honest – is the unfeeling that rules the heart
Spoken through the eyes – hidden by our mouth pieces
But very much alive in our hearts

It is said – The eyes are the window to the heart
We never really choose whom not to love or love
The heart does that on its own
That’s the soul – which is the true self

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