...from a childhood sweetheart long since dead inside with
a soul choked on amputated vision ...
The broken heart always sings a song;
The same song veiled of tortured orgiastic mask;
The broken heart self-disjoined in two,
One for the dream,
One for nightmares,
Eternally non-stopping from aller-retour;
Like a restless human pendulum
Above his own unreachable center;
An unbalanced feeling pushed into disorder
By ghostly ex-ternal memories.
Magnetic childhood’ shocks to perpetual whirls,
The broken halved heart under baleful fate
Always sings his song of veiled despairs,
Thinking no one hear,
Thinking no one come.
Hey, little sweet broken heart…
Don’t you hear my own song ?
Don’t you see my own wounds?
Don’t you feel my own failure,
Hidden in the hollow of our resemblance?
The broken heart will gather soon,
Evil is dead,
Black fate enlighten,
Horrors memories turned silent,
Obscured days blessed,
Tears crystal cleared,
Sharpe nails smoothed
And smiles recovered
Eternal sunshine is on the way
To slide in between your separated halves,
And from its merging fire
The unified golden heart
Will beat forever clear
Its song of revealed elevation…
To The sweet heart I hear to cry, sometimes...