And yet every time he saw his love

He died a bit and sighed,

For he smiled and waited all day long

To get home before he cried,

For his love would never think of him,

In the way he had to hide.

The most painful part of this ordeal

Was what he knew was true:

These awful feelings which he felt

Which plagued him as he grew

Were nothing but petty trifles to

Others whom he knew.

While his heart was but plagued with love;

be he loved or not,

Others had been raped, destroyed,

Some many long forgot,

For their lives these poor souls and others still

Had every moment fought.

And yet he felt a grief profound

And he could not sleep for days;

He could not muster the will to eat

Nor that with which to say

I love you now have in the past;

Love me back, I pray.

At schools throughout the nation this

Has happened more than once;

Where hidden boys have secret loves

Whom they can never trust;

Some claim such feelings are fully false

Others claim they're lust;

But what is clear is that they exist

And that a broken heart will rust.

Our hearts are strong machines,

But tears they cannot stand,

For every tear dripping down a face,

Upon the heart will land,

Rust the strongest heart, it will

Dead hearts these tears can brand.

For our hearts are strong machines,

But loving takes its toll,

For it takes great passion and strength to love,

More than any for a foal,

And in time our tears will burn the names of those

We've loved into our soul.