Beating, brand new. Seen, but not heard. Naive, true, pure. Undamaged my life's longing and suffereing. Time passes. Things are dicovered, about sound, sight, and smell. Curiousity got the best of me, and pain was a certainty. Hearts scratched, but not bruised. My light is still there, but slowly dimming. I breathe, and I begin anew. Time passes again. Life is history. Passion is now new to me. It's joy is like a poison fruit, always to be cationed. But curiousity again got the best of me, and pain was a certainty. I'm bruised, sctratched, but my light is still there. Never to be put out by another soul. For my heart will always beat. My will is strong, and my intentions pure. Even in my hearts desire