They say “my dear” all day,
But hurt my heart that way.
They do not care for tears,
Yet say their love appears.
They promise they will come,
But leave my heart never return
When will they know love’s art?
I wait with aching heart.
The dreams I made with care,
They turn to thorns there.
I wished to give them flowers,
They break my heart of ours.
5.53pm 6 March 2026
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