What bitter truths am I made of?
What lessons have I not learnt?
What deceits lie unfulfilled?
What part of me hasn’t yet burnt?

I have not wept every tear;
I know nothing of tomorrow;
I keep meeting handsome strangers,
Hoping for lesser sorrow.

What terror lies in wait?
Have I spent all my shame?
What wounds must I yet bear
To continue this horrid game?

Questions like these are dull;
Answers for these seem lost…
I guess, if they are ever found,
I’d have well borne their cost…