The Will of the Woeful
Tears fell at night
Will not heal pain felt at morning light
Fists through walls
Will not help you let your own fall
Knifes tossed into backs
Will one day come at a tax
Slices in skin
Will never help you within
Drinks swallowed hard
Will only ever leave you scarred
Pills shoved down
Will never help you rebound
Screaming at nothing
Will only make you fear what you are becoming
Blood and bruises will not heal pain
Nor will words said to sound vain
Renounce your weapons of misery, envy, and rage
You alone bear the key to freedom from your cage