Notes From A Dying Heart
I sit here alone with my thoughts and pain And begin to wonder if my life has been lived in vein I wake in the mornings alone And to bed each night I continue that same ritual each night before I lay my weary head down to sleep And wonder if anyone would care If tommorow I was in a pine box six feet deep Would my so called friends care? If I wasn't here for them to laugh at and poke fun? I think not because they would only find some other insecure soul In which for them to extract their joy and laughter from Would anyone remember the chubby guy Who only smiled to hide his pain and fears No I think they would only continue on Not knowing or caring about the sorry bastard who drowned in a flood of his own tears I may be in a world surrounded by many But to me I'm the only one who's here Because everytime I feel I might have a place among society A twist of fate and rejection always seems to sneak up behind me from the rear When the sun goes down every evening We all don't worry because it will rise again the next day But the only difference between the sunset and I Is that when I set for the final time The next day there will not be a single word for me to say Written November 12th, 2001 © on Jul 12 2002 04:36 PM PST 0 • 1
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"I sit here alone with my thoughts and pain..."