Longing, loathing and despair,
In love, is it fair?
Pain, drama and emotion,
Into darkness do we stare?
If down is the opposite of up,
Why do you offer the joyful cup?
The cruelty of butterflies
Has long been felt, denied.
Into the well of curious doubt,
Someone’s heart cried.
In such anguish, the mind proclaims,
No love for me, no more disdain.
The rain washes, such unholy rain,
The doubt dissolves in clouds and muck.
Till what remains is a shiny sky
And a heavenly stroke of luck.