April 22/93*

She was pretty as a child
She grew quick. She grew wild
No one knew her. No one cared
No one touched her. No one dared
And her anger lead her astray, it's sad to say, most every day

And there are those who would say
It was her fault. She was to blame.
And though I know that may be true
You can't just say "it's such a shame"
And watch the world grow cold and grey, it's sad to say, most every day

Some go hungry. Some live alone.
Some get beaten in their own homes
Some have lives aren't worth a ****
They know no smiles or helping hands
And love for them is miles away, it's sad to say, most every day

And as for me I have a life
free of such troubles and such strife
I feel wanted and special too
My parents love still shines through
and I feel it's precious rays, I'm glad to say, most every day

But still I sit a selfish fool
Though I know life can be cruel
I do nothing to lend a hand
I give no comfort. I take no stand
I close my eyes and turn away, it's sad to say, most every day

And what of you? What do you do
Are you afraid as I am too
to look them straight right in the eye
to give your heart or precious time
to make the world a warmer place, in some small way, most every day

If that's the case how can you blame
A lonely child brought up in pain
When you yourself won't make a change
or even try to break the cage
that traps the soul in silent rage, it's sad to say, most every day