My love is a tree
One without leaves
In Winter Eternal
No hope of release.
Why do they not accept me,
Why refuse the Ideal that is blatantly,
Obviously true to your soul,
And seek instead another's joy.
We were born to be free,
Born of happiness, innocence,
Yes it is right to share it,
But not to be in deficiency of these.
People should accept you for what you are,
Not the facade that you seem to be.
As the scent of the rose portrays its delicate beauty,
In the same way does it conceal its thorns.
So why keep grasping the rose
Even though its thorns continue to drain your life's essence away.
Why endure all this heartache for someone,
Someone who cares not for your pain.
I ask why, even though it's blatantly true,
I would do anything for you,
Them, us, everyone whom I shall see,
Will I try to make happy or happier
At the cost of a piece of my soul.