Oh how I’ll hate the longing years
The years counted by drops of my tears
The years ahead that I’ll spend
The years of my life where I’ll pretend
That life has meaning and purpose for me
A life I’ll keep secret that no one will see
The time in my life where I’ll make-believe
Many I’ll fool
Many I’ll deceive
For no one knows what’s locked in my heart
The love I’ve stored
The love I’ve kept
The tears I’ve tasted
The tears I’ve wept
A life I’ll keep silent never to conceal
For no one listens
For no one hears
Oh how I’ll hate the longing years
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“What worries you,
Masters you.”
John Locke
(1632-1704)