Wonder... Sometimes it is that I do wonder How she tears my heart asunder; How it is that she can say, I'll call you, as she flies away. Or if it is that she can see The blood the pleasure draws from me. Sometimes I stare up at a dream Of hearts and roses that do seem To shatter as they cross my path, Though they have not incurred my wrath. And sometimes it is instead I wonder Why my heart the world does plunder How it is that it can say, No love for you; depart, I say! Or if it is that they can see The lonely ice encased in me... And sometimes my frozen heart does dream Of melting by a flowing stream... But then 'tis shattered 'pon the path And thrown into an acid bath; A bath from which I can recover, Only to above it hover. For the shattered heart inside my chest Melts only at my final rest...