3200
Fingers twisted over 6 strings.
Wishing I had the talent to command them,
And place emotions into songs so somebody understands them.
My writing’s always random.
Ugly in my heart, but my face is ever handsome,
So I shed a handsome tear
Tension in the air I wish I had a chance to clear,
Because it’s heavy on my torso,
And my vertebra is sore.
Gather all the hurt so I can hurl it to the floor.
Obstacles I vested—can I hurdle anymore?
Knowing I should be a better servant to the Lord.
Chaos in my brain,
But the question that arises from the din,
Is "would I ever get a chance to fall in love with one again?"
And would he still grant me forgiveness when I know that it’s a sin?
AHHHHHHH........Searching for a friend.
In church I shoulda been
Buried my emotions, then unearthed them with a pen.
Flirting with Chagrin
I'm cursed to never win
The last to see it all coming, but the first to comprehend
