I stare at the cross hanging on my wall.It's just a memory of days which are behind meThe colours blend though violence of lenses of the recess of my soulAll I ever wanted was to livewith those that touched with burning . . .
Broken arms of quiet stillness tend to cover meBanished echoes of my soulCareful polish makes the edges seem much sharperBut the rust inside still makes me coldAs I scream… Father free me from the questions I am as . . .
Tripping on the cost of forgiveness and rountrip flightfrom stubborness to prideful as hellUp front and sideways with two words spare(How much can I cover in cash?)I'm sorry won't cut it or sell.I fall down in silence an . . .
Misunderstood like a prom queen, keep on saying what you don't meanas they watch as you go out the door and in the door and out the door.You've got to put on your makeup for all the time that you take upwith your energy . . .
When I was just eleven, I died and rose again - a symbol to transcend the watery grave.There the cup uncovered, I shone the light within - the radiance on my prepubescent faceAnd I'm waiting for the day when I don't have . . .
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