Everything is material but love and sorrow,
Both I care not borrow.
Sorrow draining my mind toward depressed,
Yet love can not be suppressed.
Both are equally weary to my soul,
Grinding and tearing, away it will not go.
Both falling upon me; I not noticing when they start.
Flaying my meek and puny heart.
Defenses I will never have,
But this does not make me sad.
I donít regret emotions of what is and is not real,
At least I know I am capable enough to feel.