Remnant

How can you love in a depth that you have not experienced?
Is it reality to say you feel it and not know it?
How can I, love someone so intently and yet never meet them?
Could I express my heart to this person, or passion,
The pail of it's extremities in its little existence?

My love is burdened inside the undergrowth of a short-life span.
I don't understand why I am taught it is negative,
When its spilling over the rims of this hope in which I can bare,
Like water, a promise of life,
And a cleansing for the wound of its infection.
Surely! This is a feeling meant to share.

Yet I'm wrong for how I feel,
But how I feel is who I really am.
Is it somehow wrong to be me?
If that's so, how is it right to be you?
How is it better to continue this hatred?
To continue to let it fester inside your heart, and others?
Don't you want them to be free from a bad memory,
So that we can continue to something better, more worth remembering?

Revenge is a noble thing,
But what is revenge really when it never ends?
Revenge is about settling negative loose ties,
And yet hate never ends.
Cannot we have love to be our revenge?
To settle in a place that it wasn't there in that time?

Yet I'm wrong for how I feel,
To dream of a better future, without these chemical spills.

I am wrong for trying to be a "good person."
I am wrong for being who I am.
I am wrong for having a dream,
But why is it these dreams never end when the person who holds them is gone?

If it makes it any better,
I will take in the remnants of which has wronged.
Maybe I can be the only one that has to suffer.
I can be that person in which you gave names without asking.
I can be that person, if it means something better.