I’m sorry I got that question wrong.
I’m sorry I can't move on.

I’m sorry I'm not smarter.
I’m sorry I couldn't be stronger.

I’m sorry how I take on as much as I can
only to ***** it all up.
And I’m sorry I couldn't find the man
inside my empty cup.

I’m sorry I waste my time away
trying to find a dreamy way
to happiness
when of course,
there's no such thing.

I’m sorry I don't talk much anymore
or that I let on how my heart is sore
from all the roughness
and how it keeps beating
without a source.

In fact, I must confess,
I am dying under boundless stress.
Each day my depression attacks,
reopening these countless cracks.
So many times have I walked this hall
feeling so weak and so small,
bracing for a final fall
just waiting till my lifeline snaps,
like any second I’ll collapse,
but of course I never do,
I know better than that.

But if I were to give my final words today,
this is exactly what I would say.
But that I won't undergo
I suppose you’ll never know

how sorry I am that there's nothing I’m on top of
and for dormantly letting endless piles of work tower above.

And how I’m sorry for caring more than I should
and letting myself be so consumed.

I’m sorry for impeding the impedeless
and for hoping in the hopeless.

And finally,
most especially,
I am sorry
for wanting to be so important
and that I became nothing but torment.
I am sorry for wanting so hard to be heard
when it's clear I’ll only ever come third.
I’m sorry for thinking I could matter
or that I could make things better.
I am sorry for believing
that I could amount to anything
at all.

I hereby confess my sins, and must tell you why
Why this man that writes these words and holds the pen must die
Why evil so ferociously invades my mind
And will not cease no matter how hard I try
These words that I beseech unto you are truth and hold no lie

I received word from THE LORD above that I must preach
To take my knowledge of the spirit
To the streets to teach
To spread the gospel far and wide as far as I can reach

But, After 2 or 3 weeks of compliance
While doing His will and honoring our alliance
I was met with a streak of complete defiance

I went out and preached in stores one day
I was satisfied with the work id done and thought it was ok
But upon return back to my home the LORD said sternly, nay
That it wasnt enough and that I needed to preach more today
That I needed to jump back into the fight and jump back into the fray
But in my foolishness I decided that on my bed I should lay
Now ever since, that decision, I have had to pay

Right at that very moment, evil attacked and I became a target
After all this time has passed I am filled with utter regret
Its something I am ashamed of
And desperately wish I could forget

But during those times of preaching
I was always met with fear
Evil had encompassed me. And I was told that if I stopped my death was near
To this day "preach, or die" makes me want to shed a tear
The devil knows of my failures and meets me with an evil snear

Its been 8 months now since I stopped
8 months of mental torture since I flopped
8 months of fearing death since THE LORDS will I had dropped


Now the death that had been spoken of before
Grows and grows to the point that I cannot ignore
The suffering of my soul continues more and more
I don't know if I can take it. So is death truly in store?

I do believe in miracles, but I dont know if I will get one
Will THE LORD show more mercy, or is He finally done?
The grave is looming and life is no longer fun
So don't be a failure like me.
Put your faith and trust in THE SON
And whatever you do, don't turn your back and run!
I should have followed Him. I would have won.

Now I await my death. My life is done.

childhood memories
daddy says get the lead out—
pencil tip shatters

It may be time to go away
Too many cookies are uneaten
And a few are only nibbled

I baked all night for many days
And used up all my spices
But few customers appeared

I laid them on my very best tray
And priced them as a bargain
Now most of them are growing stale

I think it’s time to close up shop
The other’s cakes were obviously better
Their customers waited in long lines

It will be hard for me to stop
My hands are white with flour
And my apron’s tied so tightly

Still, no farmer wants to plant a crop
That never will be eaten -
Are cookie bakers not the same

Perhaps my wafers were too plain
And lacking decoration
I thought that flavor was enough

But recognition brings me pain
I felt my recipes were special
But everyone had better ones

It seems that I cannot sustain
The dream of being Mrs. Fields
When It comes to writing cookies
               ljm