The Brag That I am (Alive)

Too much love to give Means too much love to hide And too much self approval Means too much indulgence and strife Too much water given And the water is turned to wine Too much sharing present And it is never thine But ever mine ever ours Excess of April Showers Brings only floods in May And Draught in June. You, lift up thy face to the Hoary head And stop. And wait. How long? Until you realise that pain is seldom evil As it forces one to acknowledge The beating of their own heart

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