This is the word whose cries echoes in the well of my soul.
A desperate calling in the darkness overcome with hopelessness.
A pleading of defiance against all that has been done un-rightly so.
The last sound of innocence and its unheard scream in the night.
Its last word being rejection of the world's cruelties.

No.

Your mouth is like a revolver
It only shoots me down
Your words are chains
They only hold me down
But not anymore, I am gone
I am not living anymore.
I am free of all these bindings,
Safely out of reach.
I know there is a heaven and you'll be
Someplace that will find me hard to reach.

There are several lies that I tell myself for this reason I write of One.

One lie, that I can change and that I will change.

For when I believe myself to be one I will never believe myself to be greater than one.
All things greater than one becomes impossible and I am then only one.
But when I believe that I am one hundred the possibility that I am greater than one becomes very real.
The thought that I can become greater than one becomes possible and only then it is possible for me to be greater than one.