It's wrong to think the heart will heal itself
and wrong to think there's something you can do.
No diet, no regimen of exercise, can fix
what love alone has wrought and sundered.

It's wrong to think the mind will rinse itself
of error and the lies it used to soothe
the stings of pride and vanity that broke
its calm complexion, thinking it was wise.

It's wrong to think the soul will reinvest
in this old husk it long had left for dead,
this broken carcass of a body life
will tally with the rest of us in time.

But three wrongs minus one are two
and minus one leaves only one to do.