A flower grew out of the ground
A tiny flower from the dirt
A tiny living soul from underground
A baby crawling from the dirt
A paper soul
An empty hole
Left out in the pouring rain
Good morning Sun,
How many miseries took place at your rise?
How many mothers wept?
How many children lost their innocence?
Could it be true?
Was she the tormented one that stole the night?
Was she the evil of which we dare not speak?
The soul that cursed the men of yore
The seed has been planted
Inside the earth the seed will grow
At the instance of the sow
The spirit has been awaken
You cannot proceed with what you never started
You cannot be the king of someone else’s throne
Nor claim to have the answers to all and everything they’ll ever ask
So what makes you shine brighter then the rest?
As if a gentle breeze
Her sense flew in
Her hair glowing in the moonlight
As she fairly stepped inside
Why cover up ourselves in our own lies
We fill the air with guilty smoke
If only I could print her portrait in my heart
And leave behind my cigarettes
Pour me another glass of something
Something that will help me to forget
Give me another bite of something
Something that will numb the pain
A lake where many faced their deaths
A lake of wisdom, sorrow and of hate
A lake into which she stepped
Taking control of her own fate