My tears have fed my sight
My breaths have dried my throat
As the world this tender broke
My footprints fled the road

My heart has wounding heal
And my soul has clogging wings
With a zealous touch of weal
My chords are mending strings

My hopes are dry with lark
My world is falling still
Yet my passion is strong
To have the downfalls fill

My death must live once but now
For my life is learning to-how.

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