When I look back,I see how everything was bad.When I try to compare,I see the life I never had.Lost in the lies,That I had considered the truth.But then I was brought out of the dark,And gave away my youth.I worked and tried my best,To protect her and I.At a young age,I learned not to let anyone see me cry.I fought for her innocence,And as far as I know, I have won.But along the way I became angry,Because she had something I want.
I grab the needle,And I grab some thread,Beginning to think I am better off dead.The needle pokes my skin,And the thread tugs it even more,The pain is the only thing that is known for sure.I stitch up my lips together,And I know am doing myself harm,As my eyes wonder to the cuts on my arms.The thread is stained with blood,As is the cold floor,But I can't seem to feel the pain anymore.The time has come,And I know what to do,But can I let go of this life, and you?
Hey, it's been a while,Since I saw your face,Or returned your smile.You've been gone so long,A year and a half, in fact.Funny, how I didn't even knowWhat city you were at..You should know that I missed you,And for you, my family,There's nothing I wouldn't do.I know it was inevitabable,For you to be gone,And I'm just glad,You're finally home.
My God (oh, let me call Thee mine,Weak, wretched sinner though I be),My trembling soul would fain be Thine;My feeble faith still clings to Thee.Not only for the Past I grieve,The Future fills me with dismay;Unless Thou hasten to relieve,Thy suppliant is a castaway.I cannot say my faith is strong,I dare not hope my love is great;But strength and love to Thee belong;Oh, do not leave me desolate!I know I owe my all to Thee;Oh, TAKE the heart I cannot give!Do Thou my strength--my Saviour be,
A Pit -- but Heaven over it --And Heaven beside, and Heaven abroad,And yet a Pit --With Heaven over it.To stir would be to slip --To look would be to drop --To dream -- to sap the PropThat holds my chances up.Ah! Pit! With Heaven over it!The depth is all my thought --I dare not ask my feet --'Twould start us where we sitSo straight you'd scarce suspectIt was a Pit -- with fathoms under it --Its Circuit just the same.Seed -- summer -- tomb --
What does the hangman think aboutWhen he goes home at night from work?When he sits down with his wife andChildren for a cup of coffee and aPlate of ham and eggs, do they askHim if it was a good day's workAnd everything went well or do theyStay off some topics and talk aboutThe weather, base ball, politicsAnd the comic strips in the papersAnd the movies? Do they look at hisHands when he reaches for the coffeeOr the ham and eggs? If the littleOnes say, Daddy, play horse, here'sA rope — does he answer like a joke:I seen enough rope for today?