Hopeless in the middle of the night I lie
Thinking I was only born to die
Mischievous ghosts are taking all the pain
to put it in my eyes and turn it into rain
Another leaf of hope falling from this tree
This tree now just a trunk of distant memories
By it I sit and listen to the silence
I hear the wind, I see the violence
The good one always walks alone
the closest ones are here but they don't
wish to stay, their place is set
they're the friends that I have never met
The misfortunes of virtue, I thought.
But virtue is not all I've got.
E. Hastings
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