I could give myself scars-
I could pretend that I'm fine.
Enjoy both the sweets and sours
of life.
But I keep gaining hope and losing it-
AGAIN, over and over, in just a couple of hours.
I can get so frustrated-
But
But no one would notice.
Part of me feels like they have enough to deal with.
And that brings me back to that I just add more problems to their already teetering heap.
I'm a child's bicycle running freely down a hill too steep.
Would it not be easier if I weren't here?!
And thats my biggest thing to fear.
That I keep thinking about it, at least once a week.
How do I explain this-?
The twenty fist century
Of no real sanctuary
For the lost and broken
I watch the dead, but I haven't spoken.
