The winds blowing through my hair the wrong way
Making the rough ends beat against my face
The world wraps around me looking so dull and gray
Dresses in white, lovely stitched lace
It feels incomplete it feels so undone
Like when a the pot is only clay
Or when a song isn't sung
Today April turns to May
But where is the beginning and where is the end?
When does life meet death, and does death ever really becomes what it was meant to be?
Can these wounds we wish to heal ever really mend?
Do the blind truly ever see?
Tonight I can feel a shadow being cast about myself
With deep deeds and thoughts I never wished to show
Things I thought were in the closet are now on the shelf
No one ever really knew I could steep so low
Tomorrow morning these things are gone
They have disappeared without a trace
The morning dew twinkles as the sun says dawn
And once again I am able to look into your face