How More I Try Poem by Ianne de Angel

More I cry
How more I help,
More I lost myself
How more I up someone,
More people try to run
How more I cook,
Less show a new book
How more far I go,
More people lost them soul
How more I do for them,
More I wonder what's happenin' then
How more children smile I see
More I try to run of who needs me

Yes, that's what happens when we help gangsters and prostitutes
But look at what Jesus make for us:

How more we ask
More he task
How more we want
More he forgets his front
How more we let
More he feels regret
How more we dead
More he feels sick of head
Because he loves us
And we don't trust
Showin' it in every moment
Every fragment
Showin' how we're selfish
And how more they miss
More we kiss.
Their unhappyness
Is our careness.