single parents
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If it were up to me,
you'd be so different,
If it were up to me,
you'd visit each day.
If it were up to me,
you'd see this little soul :
i hear the world screaming, the sickening wails i hear;
those of the hopeless—each of them a separate and eerie tune
the homeless shouting his, humble and strong as he walks through cold and empty streets
The pain
Of losing a dad, not once but twice again
The tears long and hard
damaging my brain
I'm asking why
The hurt inside comes like rain
A thunderstorm
Being born and it wants to come out
