Bittersweet Symphony

Oh, Irony.

You have such a wicked bite.

It's laughable, really. I've felt this way so many times before. Even to a much worse extremity... and yet, every time it happens, it still feels new. Like a fresh wound in my chest. That same throbbing pain that takes over my entire body, causing my mind to become irrational and clouded... And of course, there is never a cure, no. It's the same as dealing with a cold... you just have to eat chicken soup and wait it out. But of course, I'm a vegetarian, so I can't deal with a cold the same as everyone else... and I suppose that logic works the same with my heart.

And of course...

What better way to end than this?

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Why Is The Rose So Pale?

Heinrich Heine

Ah Dearest, canst thou tell me why

The Rose should be so pale?

And why the azure Violet

Should wither in the vale?

And why the Lark should, in the cloud,

So sorrowfully sing?

And why from loveliest balsam-buds

A scent of death should spring?

And why the Sun upon the mead

So chillingly should frown?

And why the Earth should, like a grave,

Be mouldering and brown?

And why is it that I, myself,

So languishing should be?

And why is it, my Heart-of-Hearts,

That thou forsakest me?

[The Heart Nebula]