At our deaths 
Your ghost would set the world aflame,
With anger so intense,
Even the ocean of my grief
would only feed it more.

I do not see what you say: That Love Is the food of your anger. All I see is the pain I give, the tears That seem to have no place In this world of daily toil.

"We are more than what we do; More than our bodies..." The wise women say. Would that I could believe it so,

In this dark world. Worse than water, Worse than death, Your anger, like the searchlight at my prison door; Is my fear - so quick it is to rise, to find and strike my heart;

I dare not speak my mind To you, as you make yourself My dire judge.

Forced to hide, I split Myself in two, And pray you will find A gentler love, Yet I love you still forever Guarding my Heart..

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