Searching for love,

Or something deeper,

He is never meant to find.

It only leaves him wandering here,

Broken, damned, and blind.

He hold in his hands

Something most dear;

The urn of his heart

Long since crumbled here.

He dips his hand inside,

For another bitter glance.

A cold dead wind rips through him,

And upon it the ashes dance.

Dancing upon the fresh grave,

Of an old memory,

As long as it holds him in the past

He will never be free.

I see my life

As it drains away.

Paralyzed by fear

Frozen where I lay.

Stone cold and bitterly hard,

I watch again as my poor heart crumbles in my hands.

Try as I might to keep it,

It slips through my fingers

Like grains of sifting sand.