I can't ask God for the pain to cease
To cleanse this grief within
Because for some reason it makes me
Atone for all my sin.

I cry and sob the pain away
Wishing it to be gone
But the one thing I can never do
Is cry and sob to God.

Surely I know He's there for me
I surely know He cares
He listens when I cry out to Him
He answers all my prayers

This surely is a killing pain
That lingers deep within
But there's nothing I can do-it seems-
To slay this awful sin.

I hate the pain that plagues my life
I want it to be gone
Still I know that I must have it
To sing my mournful song.

I know a girl or two.

There's the girl that will dance.
She will mend your withering bones,
and deduct the sticks from the stones
But the teal and black
will always bring memories back.

There's the girl that will lie.
Your adolescent hand
held tighter by a broken rubber band.
The queen of "would-be"
indifferently using your insecurity
as a blunt tool of jealousy.

There's a girl who will give you hope.
Indirectly teaching you everything
while transforming your dreams
into bits of meaningless string.
The apathy with every rainy night,
the cracked fingernails and
every hollowed-out fight.

There's a girl who will actually care.
She'll  waltz and she'll swing
and her open wounds will sing.
A hand to help open the cocoon-
the glowsticks that lit up
the unyielding light of the moon.

There's a girl that will tease.
Opening her scabby heart,
taking a hit,
and a forgetting the broken part.
She won't care if you're there;
she'll show her bruises anywhere.

But most importantly,
there's a girl you haven't met yet.
She's tethered in between
your adolescent regret
and everything unseen.
Your journey towards finding her light
is only slightly out of sight.

I know a girl or two.
But the one I haven't meant yet
is the one who will give my life
it's dormant, yet effervescent hue.

I missed you my lovely one
Thinking of you becomes a hobby of mine.
Have you remember that promise of yours?
A promise that I'm always yours.

As people live and die,
As chances say yes or no,
As gatecrashers eat and leave,
Promises are meant to make then break.

Wherever you are, whatever you do
Thank you, if I should say so.
With those moments, you became a part of me
Moments that will never happen again called as memories.