The right way is found
not on meadow ground
but deep in the wood
lined by thorns, tipped with blood
of those who tried to go around.
The right way is found
not on meadow ground
but deep in the wood
lined by thorns, tipped with blood
of those who tried to go around.
Gold-haired little girl:
now you like the attention
but that may well change.
What do you say
at the end of the day
when it’s just not enough,
when you’re just not as tough
as you’ve always prayed?
What you learn
will return
like a friend, indeed,
in a moment of need
to give you what you yearn.
My tears have dried up
and the monster I’ve become
cannot cry for you.
Can you understand the horror
Of shouting into a night
That returns nothing
Not even your own words.
Lance the emotions…
Anger, sorrow, grief, regret -
Let the wounds scar clean.
A song cuts through silence
while warm tears thaw grief.
The words, “I love you,” save
with steadfast belief.
I watch the smile on your face
rise like the sun with a trace
of fire rumbling in your eyes
which let me easily surmise
all of your grace.
