Image via Wikipedia

Image via Wikipedia

Homeless and nowhere to go

My heart is beating so very slow

Weaker and weaker my heart becomes

Every time someone plucks a string and strums

Homes are here, homes are there, homes are everywhere

When the people inside aren’t pushing me, they just stare

They are strumming my pain

And I am still singing in the rain

Does anyone notice that my soul is dying?

Does anyone care that my eyes are crying?

Strumming salvaged strings of my heart hurts more than a thrashing knife

I’m dripping into the darkness of death while everyone else lives his or her own life

I was birthed by the grace of God and given by him the glory of a golden heart

But what is the glory for if it is going to continue to be used and torn apart

I am dying from a broken heart

I have been since my lonely start

When I go to sleep tonight I just might not wake up

Because I am going to swallow all the pills in this cup