The hearth of conflict
Is a burning coal.
The heart of conflict
Is a troubled soul.
The heat of conflict
Is a gaping hole.
So, does it matter
Who’s in control?
A glass of endless pain
A straw of sugar cane
A silver spoon stuck in a dune
Of muddy common grain.
Cast into my bitter well
A wood which name I cannot spell
May the waters gush forth sweet
And word spread forth that which is meet.
You can't befriend some people
And somehow it does not seem right
Is there something wrong with me? Or him?
But I seem to face the same people in every fight.
If only he knew that my thought then
Dwelt upon that missing soul
I believe he would not have sought an
Argument to pierce another hole!
A romance blessed by curses
Will end like Shakespeare's pair
In the mind or from the mouth -
Destruction equally fair.
There are friends that are never meant to be
Blanca, Kyle and Kerry
And those are the friends of your best friends.
Life is short - neither let them be - nor worry.