Desperate

Jan.25, 2007.


All of us who feel this pain, we're desperate.
To feel another pain, to see our blood.
Because of them, our angels, we're seperate.
Our pain washes over us like a flood.

It drowns us in a deep, dark depression.
We can't escape it, or run away.
Our solution WOULD make an impression
On those of whom we try to keep away.

For they are the cause of this pain we feel.
All this suffering that we must endure.
Arms, legs, or heart, the scars are just as real.
Of what we desire, we can't be sure.

To be near them pains us beyond repair.
To stay away sends us to great despair.