Without It

Cold is the heart that beats alone,
And even colder, the one that led it there.
Warmth is hard to find at home
When the mind is lost, and the soul is bare.
Time can't heal the disease
When the cure is worse than being sick.
The future is hard to see
When the past is somberly lit.
Hard to follow is the path of dreams
That shatters with every step.
The effort in plans and schemes
Are far too often not met.
It is hard to let go
Of the thing that won't let you.
It is the right thing, you know,
But the ending seems blue.
When all is done that can be,
Only one thing will remain:
To move on with life free,
But always with the pain.