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The golden hand of God holds the brilliantly sparkling hope for the future. / Praise God, or Allah, Buddah, Muhammad, whatever you deem to
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The golden hand of God holds the brilliantly sparkling hope for the future. / Praise God, or Allah, Buddah, Muhammad, whatever you deem to
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The road is long, the road is hard,
I struggle to go the extra yard.
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He sits alone, staring into the rain outside,
fogging the window with his breath, waiting.
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Happiness is a state of mind,
it's really up to you to find,
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I cannot tell you why things happen as they do,
it's God's will, this I tell you true.
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Forged in a fire,
reminiscent of hell.
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Dear Santa:
This is not going to be your normal letter dear sir.
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The thought of you sickens me right to the bone,
was never good enough, you couldn't leave it alone.
24 lines, 7 comments,
on Nov 9 6:10 PM 2007. In Sad, Dark, Pain, Angst, Abuse, Anger, Message, Hate, Angry
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Eyes closed, head bowed, I meditate,
prayers having been said, I listen.
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Cast all thought into the abyss,
put your life in cruise control.
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What lies below the edge of our vision,
lurking, hiding, just out of our sight?
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