Only to crack at the shore.
It annoys me how they fail to learn
How they retrace footsteps they printed in the sea while in yearn
Footsteps that printed "HURT" on their hearts in the past
Still they kiss them like this time they'll last
But it's the same print that ends on a weary sand
That, they don't understand
So they allow the sand to be eroded [again] by their own footsteps.
They let their hearts trod the same glass pieces
hidden in the same coarse sand
and they bleed the same maroon blood, again.
I lay covered in this pink quilt and wonder
Am I the wise one here or the fool?
The one whose keg would never be full?
Is it possible that trodden footsteps will now bring happiness?
That he that waiteth at the shore [this time] is like no other?
They say only fools rush in
But do the "fools" ever come out smiling?
If this same path leads to an altar at the shore,
I know I was wrong before
And if it doesn't, I repeat
Those sands would never [again]tingle the heels of my feet
I have seen red hearts run this track before
I wonder if they'll ever reach the shore, assure.
~~Bernadette Ikhena~~
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