The One

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

And in this madness,
there is no one,
no one to call our own.

The tears have had their way,
travelling down the face,
soaking our skin,
leaving a burning trail.

Looking for someone,
they can be the one,
bringing meaning to words,
for you.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

So we must keep caution,
for trust is often given in vain.

And there is a way,
we all do take.
Close ourselves away,
from the world.
Save us the pain,
save us some trouble.

For, the times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

It has never been easy,
living in this madness, for anyone.
But never did we have it so bad.

For now,
each one of us,
barely touch how we should,
to bare ourselves,
we have forgotten how to.

So we sit,
quietly in a corner,
awaiting our turns.

Hopeful big eyes,
sometimes cry,
and sometimes they smile.
Waiting their turn.

Is it worth it,
this game we play.
In the end does it matter,
how we played.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

Looking for our beloved,
we want them to come to us,
they wait for us.
This hide-and-seek.

We say we live freely,
but what we live in is fear.

Courage we must seek,
or the love we need hides itself well.

So, let in the poison,
embrace the wicked.

For in the thousand,
we find what we sought,
the one.

The one,
worth our time,
worth the hurt,
worth all the pain.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

Till the time,
until they come.

And in this madness,
there is no one,
no one to call our own.

Save them,
the ones we will call our own.