It's easy to hear the loneliness in her voice
As she speaks she has no one to talk about, there's just no choice

She talks about the good old days
Filled with love and compassion all was just a faze

Loneliness is when you cry
There's no one there to make her smile or dry her eyes

No one to help with the demons inside her head
No one to subside the discomfort of pain from deep inside

The demons are here to prey on the misguided brain
She continues to hide her pain

Only to give into the loneliness of despair
Her loneliness has only become a reality because nobody cares

Trying to fade away loneliness has taken its toll
On her soul

Sound of loneliness is silent
She doesn't hear the birds singing with great talent

She doesn't feel the sun shining
People pass her by as if she doesn't exist so she starts declining

She wishes her heart could love again highly unlikely loneliness has become her only way of life
She remains unable to feel due to the coldness in her heart stuck by a knife

Amongst the barren trees and evergreens
The beautiful white leaves of the pear trees
The low lying bushes begin to green
The crocus and tulips at full bloom
It must be Spring

There are days where I do not know
Anything but, "I love you, Lord."
And when it seems I can't bear it most,
I turn to you Oh, Lord.
I am not perfect.
I am a mess.
But I am complete.
In Christ the one who rescued me.

Provided no more tears,
Fall down on ones head.
The rain may continue,
Yet not from dread.
Is there only horrors of life hiding in the wait?
Are there no more avenues for one to create?
This beast of burden I've carried,
So long kept concealed.
Always remaining calm,
Storms brewing infield.
A moment of silence necessary,
For those still living.
Let your mistakes be many,
And always forgiving.

There's a monument outside of town
I go there when the sun goes down
And I listen....

The names upon that granite slab
Are worn and rusted, slightly drab
Still  I listen

There's a silence hanging in the air
Hiding the thoughts of those not there
And I listen

I sit upon the steps below
In rain, or sun, and even snow
And I listen

Thirty men remembered here
Though none of them are buried near
So I listen

I've met others beneath this pigeon roost
Whose spirits I have tried to boost
As I listen

I wait to hear them from the grave
The voices of the dead, the brave
And I listen

None has spoken out to me
I know they watch and they see
As I listen

I keep watch throughout the night
I head home when it is daylight
And I listen

During the day there's too much noise
To hear the voices of these boys
But, I listen

So each night as the sun goes down
I venture once more out of town
And I listen

I listen.....

The injustice
either hardens or breaks the human mind
The mind
must choose how to fight against the injustice
The choice
of non-violence is not a sign of weakness
The knowledge
of why you fight is more important than the fight
The strength
to suffer is the time between despair and triumph
The ability
to turn the other cheek is the holiest weapon
The act
of vengeance is the weakness of a human being
The love
for the wounded is the reason they follow you
The memory
of the dead is the passion to believe in the vision
The revolution
in you ends when you no longer hate a stranger