There can be many cruel arrows in affairs of the heart, many wounds unseen. To be in love with someone who cannot love you in return is also one of the saddest.
If in possession of worthy draft,
to wounded heart I’d bequeath,
and pray still his tortured mind
and mend that broke beneath.
Such hurtful bolt once let fly
strikes deep it’s poison cruel,
he was fate’s choice that day
and now a love struck fool.