In Process 3

How poignant the dart you threw;
Less she cares, more I grow fond.
How unfair the feigned joy you have given.
I became the avatar of restlessness.
Desperate and overwhelmed seeking my way;
Like a tiny spring, an aspiring river.

A barbed arrow struck my holy altar.
Either way it goes, i keep bleeding love.
Now the river flows free in dreams
I dreamt, and the tears I cry.
I have given in and the blood runs free.
If only you knew how deep I was struck;
It would scare you away, I know it would.