Untold

Moma told me many things
That would darken my world view
She hoped not to clip my wings 
Durning those long walks at the sea.

But Moma never told me 
That to love is to cry
It’s all an unfortunate thing
So why won’t love just die?

Nobody told me to love is to ache
Now my heart’s about to break 
So I’ll sit here crying by the lake
And a smile forever I will fake.