Sorrow fills my song, delicate and weak

They were ripped away, into the quiet

Though it be not vengeance for which I seek

For those who stole, must now quell the riot.


I had thought that life, would embrace beauty

Had the chance been appointed to teach song

But alas I have failed in my duty

Though upon me, there falls no blame of wrong.


When my own kin are held out of my reach

Never to be taught or shown how to sing

Then who upon me, would the blame impeach

When they despair like a bird with no wing?


But to myself I still direct some blame

As I forfeited my songs and my soul

To one with neither pity nor due shame

Who transformed the gold of new life, to coal.


Could any forgiveness be thus granted

That a second chance could still be given

That the songs of old could still be planted

So this discord away could be driven?