There's nothing new to say,
Except to sing of blistered hands
and withered hearts;
And of those you can't quite sing
For then pain forever rings.
Blistered hands from too much application,
Withered hearts from misplaced supplication.....
Ceaseless questions hang aimlessly
for honest answers are hard to come by,
All the hows and whens and whys
Met with dreadful silence