The Rain

The rain is coming out, and it's bringing its pain Every time I think of the past again. Can I shun these thoughts to keep me sane? No, I cannot...

I think of the past every day Every time that I come across, I delay. "Is it alright for me to stay? Is it alright for me to go away?"

I usually go away to my hiding spot The one spot that loves me no matter what But I cannot find that spot, oh no I cannot. The spot has disappeared, like the rest...

I plea to people who care about me If they can set me free From this trouble, and from this pain If they can, then there is certainly a cure...

I cannot live another day I cannot live to be a blind man one more day I am hopelessly blind, too blind to face the truth When the truth is right at me.

Here lies these scars, so bitter and sweet. From my rain that was discreet I wish I could find another spot, one to take away the pain For, maybe one day, I will live truthfully again...

Fatal Disease