Show me the way home
That I might get us there safe.
Do not forsake me.

Please let her come out.
Do not allow her to hide
From me. I love her,

I want to help her.
But whether she will let me
Is questionable.

Take the pen from me,
Throw it into the corner.
I don't want to write

Of what I'm living,
Of what we are going through.
The hurt is too great.

But it seems to me
That I write of little else
But these pains of life.

And they're "beautiful"
Because I make them that way,
Though they are ugly,

So deeply ugly
And now rotten to the core.

They are just like me.