These tears that I cry cannot be explained
Like birds singing sweetly, the music doth lie
My gilded cage tarnished by more than strain
My heart lies bleeding and time does not signify
That which is remembered is not always gained
Waiting for something to take away the pain
Kinsey Carlson is a nurse by day, and a fervent writer by night. She lives in the north woods of Minnesota with a small herd of donkeys and heartily enjoys being a recluse.