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By Chris Giacca

Painting on the wall but what does it show
You are the artist so you should know
A heart it is, broken in two
Reformed, re-shattered by the memory of you
It tries to beat but just stays still
It is a heart that feels no thrill
No spot of joy to ease the pain
It sits alone, enduring the rain

No sense to find the will to live
No meaning to the pain you give
A heart there is, broken by force
And every day, you are the source

Ballad of a love gone wrong
You are the band, you wrote the song
A rhyme with no reason, a body without soul
It is just empty, no hope of being whole
The band strikes up a dying tone
And there’s the heart all alone
No drop of sorrow to make things worse
No sympathy sewn into the verse

No sense to find the will to live
No meaning to the pain you give
A heart there is, broken by you
Shattered now, you know it’s true

No respite no reason why
You bit the tongue that spoke the lie
A heart there was, broke by remember
Is now just coals, a dying ember

A play there is of bitterness
You wrote the script, you know what’s next
A score without purpose, feel or tact
No audience for this empty act
You made a bid for loneliness
But that won’t get you out of this mess
No drop of wine to wash away the gloom
No lights to brighten this dark room

No sense to find the will to live
No meaning to this pain you give
A heart there is, broken by force
And every day, you are the source

No respite no reason why
You bit the tongue that spoke the lie
A heart there was, broke by remember
Is now just coals, a dying ember