Classic Poem

I've had it, Lord! Don't come
to the house of darkness.
Rather grant my wish:
destroy memory. Why make me shed
so many useless tears?

I'm a corpse, the night would say.
You made the teardrops shine
and opened up page after page
of anguish and desire, made me weep
songs unheard, like dreams.

Had I but been content
that there is nothing
I'd have shut up and slept.
Had there been the sound of a footfall
I'd have pricked up my ears.
You lied with that “There's nothing,”
and made me cry in my sleep.

But if my dreams don't sleep
what grief is that to me?