TOO MUCH OR NOT ENOUGH

We all die, again and again.
Die of confusion,
as well as of deception,
of passion of course
but of expectation as well,
very much of lack of compassion
and being trampled by negation.

It seems that all those feelings
amount to words that resonate -
those angles of affection
do lead to the same conclusion :

what we wish and desire,
what we want and hope for,
nested behind indigence,
declares itself charitable

So much to offer,
and yet awkwardly we release,
trampling the buds of our destiny,
those we either neglect or drown.

What can I do that will make you smile
but then later will not make you cry?
How can we forgive ourselves
of loving so much or not enough?

Can we be innocent
without being careless
and can we care
without losing our innocence?