THE DAWN

Lonely, feeling despaired

Everything's going under.

The inner child still impaired,

Everything's torn asunder.

Curled in a ball,

Still sitting in darkness,

Wanting to fall,

Make it hurt less.

Will the dawn ever get here?

Small circle, cold and scratched,

Looking through amber-colored eyes,

Take it down, throw it back,

It burns like fire.

Sweet, burning fire

Savior to Mary's soul

Lifting her high, dropping her

Never letteing her go.

Propped up on a glass crutch,

Mary's one tride and true friend.

Nothing else matters much,

And this feeling never ends.

Mary's going down

That last cup of sorrow

Like there was no tomorrow,

Because for her, the dawn never gets here.

(1997)

(rev. 8-2-2001)