|
Locked in
The fire of your soul.
I find you
Spinning out of control
I see you
Drowning again
Why can’t I save you?
Lost but
The danger is gone
I hold you
In the safety of my arms
I see you,
Falling again
Why can’t I save you?
Look now
To save yourself
I love you
And no one else
Crazy, though
How I cannot leave
Why can’t I save you?
Painful
Wounds of war
I cradle you
Forevermore
Silence in
Death’s disgrace
Why can’t I save you?
|
| |
| You say that you hear
the desperation in my voice
But you have no idea
Why is it so easy to hurt me?
and Why do I let you?
All I want is for you to understand...
To love me for who I am
Not who I will be
or who I was.
I ran to you with everything
You were my sounding board
My shoulder to cry on
The one who knew everything and wanted more
Now I am nothing
I am empty
And yet I cry.
|
| |
| A few years ago, I was working downtown, and I saw this man
everyday, and he was always muttering to himself. I was kinda
freaked out, wondering why in the world he was talking to
himself. Maybe he was schizophrenic, or just plain weird.
He was obviously down on his luck, ratty clothes, kinda smelled like
pee, it was not pleasent. One day, he stopped in front of me, i
don't think he knew i was there, but he kinda listened, like someone
was talking back. He started to mumble again, but this time, i
heard, loud and clear. This man, who clearly had not much to
speak of, was praising God for what he did have.
What a humbling experience.
We run around, wishing we had this or that, always working for that
next thing. We say to ourselves, i will be happy once i am out of
college, and then when we are out, we say, i will be happy when i have
a job, and then you work your entire life, waiting for
retirement. We have everything to be thankful for, and we take it
all for granted. That man, who had nothing, taught me that i take
my life for granted, and i will never ever do it again.
|
| |
| Fighting for
your last breath.
Injustice,
making a stand.
Fear wrought
with lonliness
but you are that kinda man
Faling to attempt
even the slightest
change of heart
Hindsight gives
you cause to leave
and hate the ones
who came before.
Looking over
your shoulder,
the past stalks you
like a lion.
You won't let go
and you can't see.
Your pain makes
you run from me.
|
| |
| this is for you
the words that come from my pen
my head
my heart
you listen
and hear
but words are not the end of it all
there is more and
I think you understand
|
| |
