Oh who is that young sinner with the handcuffs on his wrists?
And what has he been after that they groan and shake their fists?
And wherefore is he wearing such a conscience-stricken air?
Oh they're taking him to prison for the color of his hair.

'Tis a shame to human nature, such a head of hair as his;
In the good old time 'twas hanging for the color that it is;
Though hanging isn't bad enough and flaying would be fair
For the nameless and abominable color of his hair.

Oh a deal of pains he's taken and a pretty price he's paid
To hide his poll or dye it of a mentionable shade;
But they've pulled the beggar's hat off for the world to see and stare,
And they're taking him to justice for the color of his hair.

Now 'tis oakum for his fingers and the treadmill for his feet,
And the quarry-gang on Portland in the cold and in the heat,
And between his spells of labor in the time he has to spare
He can curse the God that made him for the color of his hair.

This moment was never mine
But somehow I found the arrogance to hold onto it
To fear it, to fight it, to somehow decide if it was wrong or if it was right
or if I was even alive inside it, and if I would survive it
To see the next one roll around and drown whatever fragile solace I found.

But before the answer finds me, the next moment and I meet.
And this one isn’t too keen to let me believe it’d be okay to just breathe
Without thinking about the million little reasons I'm too scared to leave

So I’ll stay
And I’ll huff and I'll puff
But no amount of breath will ever be enough
To satisfy the divide between my lungs and my mind

Whatever moment is next to be, but I guess it’s not meant to be
Because I never find the next moment, it always finds me

But there doesn’t seem to be any peace in this fresh start
Only faster thumps from my restless heart
Telling my fingers and knees to shake so violently,
The pillars of sand beneath my feet dissolve back into the sea
And leave me bobbing for air like it isn’t free

And then a new moment hangs its noose around me
and tightens an iron grip around my throat
taunting “think fast kid, dead bodies don’t float”
But I can’t let go, so I just sit there and watch myself choke

And just when the oxygen no longer comes
A new moment claws its way down to the pit of my lungs
Digging up an old ladder with a new set of rungs

I’m still alive, right?
The wires are crossed, but they’re still clicking, the gears are still spinning, clock hands still ticking,
So why am I so incapable of winning?

Which moment am I living in?
Or maybe there’s not much difference between now and then

But before my mind and I can make amends
A new moment interrupts and begins it all again

Send help, dear friend.

I don't know.
I'm sad
and I'm mad
about being so sad.
Because I know life isn't so bad,
and I'm trying to add
more of the happiness I've previously had
and I'm so dang glad
I mean, I can see the blessings I have.
But no matter how bad
I want to not be sad
or how hard I try...
I still sit here with tears in my eyes
and I'll tell you "I'm fine."
And you know it's a lie;
I'm holding on for dear life.
I am tired
and the fire
in my eyes?
Along with my cloudy heart,
and the cloudy skies;
those flames
are dimming
going out with the city lights
in the middle of the night
Like if I just hide
and take some time
to get things right
The despair will somehow
dissapear from my mind.
Maybe if I try
being kind
to myself
...and my heart and my mind
I will be fine
sometime.

I hate how the darkness of the sea
Brings out the blue in your terrifying eyes
But the sea isn't made for, any other human
(but you)
You could be with me above sea
If you would only try
But your stuck in the sea, no
With the sea forevermore
So I will continue to come visit you until I die
The only thing you will ever touch isn't me
It will be, the sharpness of the sea
Your hair floats perfectly
(of course with the movement of the sea)
Sadly the sea makes you, you
You are all I ever wanted to see
(but I cannot breathe in this sea air)
So I swim away and try to remember
Your too soft, golden hair
The only time I could truly recall happiness
In your crackly, small voice is when you cried
"I'm so perfectly under, with the heavy secrets of the sea."
Now I can't even remember what you sound like
And barely what you look like
My eyes aren't made for the sea, I cannot see
******* sea! You've taken her from me!
You should have let her be! With me!
I plea, give her back at least
the slightest thought of we
Her eyes see nothing in me

come on sweet heart
chin up, don't tear yourself apart,
stand tall,
even though your 5'6'
disregard that , wear your six inch heals and strut with  brutish animosity
your a lion whose collar brandishes six inch spikes facing inwards now take of your leather back straps and show them what you've been working on
let the sun glint of your scars and make dam sure they know  how you earnt them

*LG