Everything I touch is destroyed
Why is time like quicksand?
It slips through my fingertips
It's getting out of hand.
My dreams burrow themselves in the dark
And hide until I can find them,
Until I make a spark.
The flame in my heart
Reignites and I start
To find myself believing
That no longer I am grieving,
The words in my head
Form these strings and these threads
That I'm better off dead
But I fight them again
And with bravery I said:
"I Can"