Spectacle

Look into my eyes, and look at my face
Then lie to me that you don't see the ache

A fragment within me, is now, dead
As unheard footsteps, on my dreams, tread

Break through my ribs and tear out my heart
Watch me! As I fall apart

I concur, Mr. Eliot

Oh yes, it hurts.

Deep down you feel the glass of your heart echoing as it shatters against the hollowness of your soul.

Alas!

The loveless world; a good-for-nothing wasteland.