I Just Can’t Get Right

Everyday every hour upon every minute
I try my best to out weigh every second of my race against time
Though the scale remains unbalanced

I just can’t get right

So many prayers So many request My lips swear GOd send me an angel and upon my request 12345 So why don’t I realize they can only guide me thus far and then they’re gone
So now I introduce to thee my grand finale
I’m still in search of that one and only The angel that will forbid me of lonely

Death I pray Death I demand I have yet to meet myself

I Have Friends

1 iz a backztabba
Another iz a theif
Him over yonda,
He’z a znitch, a bitch,
A traitorz taddla

2 r dead, n
Lazt I zaw her, she wuz on her way 2 Zan Antonio
Remember flesh, flesh of our flesh
2gether U I n she bled

Imagination

If one could live it all again, what would times past bring
Would there be happier days, better ways to feel and heal a broken heart

If you could live it all again, would all be the same as then
Would there be lonelier days of additional frightening ways

If we could live it all again, would there be a you and I
Would there be countless tears to cry Would there even be sunny skies

If I could live it all again, my destiny would be simply to live and die

Sympathy

She sits alone waiting and wondering, will Heavens Gate open up to her

She sits alone contemplating, contemplating when would be the time of releasing a burden that holds heavens gate from opening to her. Until then, she will sit alone wondering when will the Lord give her the strength to let go, completely

She sits alone, she sits alone praying for the soul of all of us and someday one day is gonna be tomorrow….. Will she be gone

She sits alone as she ponders, how the hurt and pain of others may be, as she letz go of the burden, heavy as it is, its is the very thing that will free her

Until then she stays.

And

And day turns to night, night to day, not once did I bend a knee to pray, for it seems my energies are consumed with the lustful pleasures of long awaiting desires I hold sacred within the wounded heart of my soul.

And day turns grey and cold, night to day not once did I bow my head to pray, for my thoughts run rampant dwelling upon dreams of consistent worldly deceits trying to convince me of the renown wealth that I hav yet to reach.

And day turns to night, night to tonight is the night, for when I pray, I stand, I raise, I pray with lifted hands.