As the cold rain falls down, against my face
I fall from my perch, stripped of my grace
My soul is still torn
My heart is still worn
But I follow it to my destination
Though some call my idea an abomination
I still want your love, so sweet and so tender.
I still want you to of my heart, be a mender.
I walk away sadly, rejected and dead
As visions of suicide dance in my head.
My wrists are so tender, so easy to cut
But will this really get me out of this rut?
I pull the razor away, wash off the blood.
I smile at the pain, the flowing crimson flood.
It's the only thing that I now can control
Even though, it darkens my soul.
I get up and deal with it, all over again.
My heart is still broken.
My soul is still sore.
This time I know, God has yet to open another door.