Helping Hearts

A Poem by Mistylake

With false hobbies, and false interest
I, with my hate, have a story I tell,
a story, I myself doubt, in both moral,
and emotional sorrow, my story says
that not one living debt is ever paid,

When one destroys the one that saved one,
life is not a maze, but a sad story
told until after the end, tears cannot bring
a dead friend glory, just as sadness cannot
bring a dull life to light, a shadow, born to
exist, never to live, but to spend years and
years being dismissed, pushed aside and ignored,

With not the strength to scream for help or to
avoid the bullets which never miss, an existence of
little life, never aided, nor help will any soul
come, until the life of such a human being
is over, and done