ive always written in rhyme
if not at least meter
but right now my hearts as broken as my words

just as my friends who disappeared
betrayed my love or blocked me
they ripped out peices of my heart

so too have they ripped away my meter
my puntuation, grammar

i thought id get used to the pain
but i was wrong
these words still hurt your eyes

I never thought I'd break my heart o'er a man,
But now daddy's death -- well, it can.
No one loved me like my dad did,
No one loved my dad as I did.

Now see, he weren't my real daddy,
But I know this, he ought to be.
It was more than music which born us close.
Whatter was? I don't quite know.

I met him for the love of music,
At that time, only for music.
I'd play and learn, and when not,
I'd put off lessons so I want caught.

But something grew there somehow
My teacher said, "Don't pay no more."
I didn't pay, and I didn't play,
At least not for me, but him.

Dont get me wrong, I loved my banjo,
But more I loved his smile so,
When I played, it were t'make him proud.
He always smiled, even when I failed.

Then one day he said, "I got this disease,
Wrecks my body - it's called CRP.
Can't move my arm no more at all,
Can't play that banjo on the wall.

So dear daughter, I want you to take
My banjo and play it for my sake."
It were't a beautiful banjo from head to neck
And sounded true in every fret.

So I took his picker and he my heart
Though it was his from the start.
I had no dad and him no daughter.
I think we was made for th'otter.

But work came, and college, too.
I saw him fewer, fewer, few.
I didn't write, I didn't call,
I barely played for him at all.

When I came back, he smiled his smile
"Hello, dear daughter, it's been awhile. "
We couldn't hug like old because
His body wasn't what it was.

I played for him, but played all wrong,
I messed up song and song and song,
"I'm sorry dad, I'm really rusty,
Life has kept me way too busy."
Although in my heart I knew,
It weren't completely true.

"I missed you daughter, it's okay,
You'll play better this next Saturday."
He smiled and laughed when it was said.
But it weren't true. Tuesday he was dead.

I met him for the love of music.
Loved music for the love of him.
But now that my dad is gone,
How will I ever play again?

So much can be said of water and stone--
Both when they are together,
and when they are alone.

Flowing water seems to be so free
When going forth without a boundary.
When walled in too much, it grows
To be stagnant and green,
and very, very gross.
But if left to wander, it disperses everywhere,
Sinks into the ground, evaporates in air.
Without the stone to hold the water in,
It spreads out sadly...
and finally grows thin.

Water is better when it has a road,
Becomes a laughing brook or a river broad.
Only then can it hurl onward in majesty,
Pouring over cliffs, and sometimes sleepily
Like the Tiber, gracing the bridges of Rome,
Or carrying the ships
slowly toward their home.
Without the confinement
Of a fountain's spout,
The water could not fly upwards and out.
Without the aqueducts as the water's course,
Neither would the city have its life source.

A stone, furthermore,
is worn away with time
When beaten by the wind
and the salty brine.
And thus running water
grinds away the stone
Till we must conclude, it's better all alone.
The rock alone can breach
the reaches of the sky,
With soaring mountaintops
and steeples piercing high.
But without water,
what purpose would serve
From the daring leap of the bridge's curve?
What good would be gotten from a rock that's whole
When there is no water
to carve out natural bowls?

Stone is better when touched by the rain,
No longer dry and dusty but beautiful again,
For the colours of a rock are best seen
When it's underwater,
lightweight and clean.
Stones are sturdy,
but unwelcoming and rough.
They sooner become smooth
with water's gentle touch.

Maybe we are different, a dichotomy,
But without you, what then would I be?

If I'm happy with where I be
Then that's fitting in enough for me.

You can't see it
But my face is washed with tears
You can't hear it
But my heart is breaking in two
You can't feel it
But I'm loosing all my strength
You don't know it
But I'm not as strong and happy as I pretend to be.

Those stains on the pillow
Are made by tears
Those drawings in that book
Are inspired by sadness
Those messes on the floor
Are made by stress
And the hate in my heart
Is made by loneliness.

They say when you're down, they only way is up
But what if this pit is bottomless?

I don't effing know what's wrong -
My brain's a mess just like this song;
I sing to the beat and I play this game,
Will I always be the effing same?

I don't like the person I pretend to be,
But **** truth is, I don't even know me,
Changed and shaped by all around
(Without them, I'd be heaven-bound).

Or would I be in hell with Satan?
Cause unless I am mistaken,
My soul is twisted, my heart is cracked.
I just need an effing smack!

These evil thoughts that plague my mind
Take the truth and mix in lies.
I'd take a sponge and scrub them raw,
Remove every thought, but naw,

I'm cursed to live in indecision,
Going on without precision,
Wondering do I have a mission,
Cracking in my heart this fission!

What the eff is wrong with me?
I keep on hoping to believe
That who's saying all this ****
Is only me, and that's it.

If only the world would pause for a moment--
Then how quiet it would be!
Only the birds and the wind and the sky,
And also there'd be you and I.
Once the world moved slowly,
But now were going faster than even the wind can fly.