What is the point in following her that has a heart so grey?
To love her works and writings, for her to throw her life away?
What is the point in caring, when she is doomed to die?
When she still insists in sitting down to cry…
The point is that you love it
The point is my words should flow
Like the water that’s in my spirit
I should let my words go…
Who knows it could heal me?
Who knows I could change my mind…
Who knows what is what
And what my life should find…
The point is I am healing
The point is I am not
The point is I am trying
I am trying not to stop
One day I am happy
One day I am sad
One day I want to kill myself ever so bad
But some days I plodder on
And write these things for you
Whilst soak in tears and sadness, sitting in the blue
Wondering when my life will change
Wondering when I’ll find love
Wondering when things are different
Or when is the next shove?
I am curious when I’ll do it
When I will cut the cords
That ties me to this life full of discord
I wonder when I will cut too deep
Too deep that I will forever sleep
I wonder when my life will change
So I can look back and think it strange
That I was ever in that place
That I was ever sad
Because I try to lie to myself, that life isn’t always bad
tardycreative.com 