I have lived and I have loved;
I have laughed and I have cried;
I have grown through the fast years,
And mourned them all, as they died.

Hope has always been a friend
And love has been my queer guide;
I believed them to be true –
Yet, all this time they have lied.

It’s hard to trust the flowers;
It’s hard to forget the past;
Though I know no matter what
No flower will ever last.

I carry my wounds around,
All are quite welcome to see
How they ooze and seldom heal
This heart, beating, inside of me.

But, I am surrounded by those,
Who cannot feel and do not see;
So I find myself asking lovers,
If they have ever truly loved me.