I am but a blank slate
Filled with neverending hate
When all shards of hope
Is but a piece of unending rope

What is this game I play?
What is the price I have to pay?

I cannot wager my heart.
For it is a broken cart.
All of it contents, spilled,
Its purpose, still unfullfilled.


Maybe one day, when my dues are paid.
Maybe, when I have it all laid.
I'll play that little game with you,
I'll play that game, without any clue.