Questions asked by a melancholy heart

Matthew Pascucci

Tell me when will the wind blow again,
Kicking up these leaves that caused me pain.
When will it snow,
When will my futile efforts start to show?

When will you realize, that you hold not one heart, but my heart as well,
I pray to God and hope he tells,
Me of all my wrongdoing while stating how his forgiveness quells,
At the thought of my meticulous actions, 
That I've made solely out of lack of common sense. 

I am a king born peasant, no good for this earth,
But through my words, I hope you hear the sorrow and the hurt,
Living without a mother,
With my sister and my brothers,
Amounts to pain that I cannot quell.
Allow me to be free, hesitant of my mistakes,
And let my sorrow to be left, quivering on a stake.