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.