My Heart is aching~

Broken into p~i~e~c~es,

Without sobbing, but silence

In a Crude trap~

Might Time could cure

Or the cry is to kill~

Hurt~dimly, Hither,

Lasts Long, dripping thither~

Could you Recall? that wound

Decays in bowels~ But, I would~

Till Ages comes the cenotaph,

Tears will carve my epitaph.