Post by StoriesThatNeverWere on May 1, 2006 3:02:40 GMT -5
Nature divides the passionate from the not
A mission to find thyself is one to be saught
I have found mine, as I sit in the room
Ignoring the outside, which tries to strengthen gloom
The medication has ceased my pain, for the time being
Just enough for me to stay conscience, to heal the wounds beaneath
Impatient and anxious, my world is an earthquake
Shaking, with noise, halting, then starting again
A male hand on my shoulder,
Wanting to be there for me
But we are too young,
By next year, he will be gone
Even too immature, I still feel proud
I see her coming, through the messy crowd
The nurse smiles at me
Let me tell you this now; there is no greater feeling
Then holding her little body, so deligate and shy,
When you hold your own baby for the first time
A mission to find thyself is one to be saught
I have found mine, as I sit in the room
Ignoring the outside, which tries to strengthen gloom
The medication has ceased my pain, for the time being
Just enough for me to stay conscience, to heal the wounds beaneath
Impatient and anxious, my world is an earthquake
Shaking, with noise, halting, then starting again
A male hand on my shoulder,
Wanting to be there for me
But we are too young,
By next year, he will be gone
Even too immature, I still feel proud
I see her coming, through the messy crowd
The nurse smiles at me
Let me tell you this now; there is no greater feeling
Then holding her little body, so deligate and shy,
When you hold your own baby for the first time
