Mother Why
Mother, there is something I have to ask
If you're not too busy with your task
Can I leave my home to go out on a date?
How will I know if she is just a friend or a soul mate?
How come when I enter a room others give a vibe of hate?
Why is there doom to all the things I create?
Mother, why do I feel so ill?
I seem incapable to do anything but lie still
Is there someone out on the kill
Lurking over the hill?
Can you get rid of the thoughts that haunt me?
If you are not too busy
Pain
I can't begin to explain
The source of my pain
I was never beaten or raped
Yet there's a feeling of pain I can't escape
Between my first memory and birth
I abandoned a sense of self worth
Good And Bad Acts
My goodness goes without being acknowledged
This ignorance from them is leaving me on the edge
All my mistakes are condemned before they're even made
Contempt grows as appreciation fades
Their eyes are closed when I helped them
Until they search for faults on which to condemn
What the hell can I do
All but the bad is blinded from you
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment