From the ashes of my broken home,
I arose, and woke up all alone.
In the darkness I stayed,
while everyone else saw me fade.
Father, father
where did you go?
The pain was so very slow.
Can you fix the things that are broken?
Can you give back the things that were stolen?
From the pipes with residue,
the devil took you and you never knew.
Up, Up
you went away,
Like the heroin did that day.
It seems like I'm dying,
when I'm always crying,
it seems like sickness,
so where is my forgiveness?
YOU ARE READING
The Atrium
PoetryAs the river of life flows right through, collecting at the delta towards the Atrium of my soul
