Rhyme Thyme

Round and round and round I spin, right back... well... at the begin-in.

I search and look, for that something. What's it called? Oh yeah, the instruction book.

To tell me how to live this life... pain, happiness, sadness and strife.

When left to my own devices, I think and think, and over think

and only find my own vices.

Can't you tell me where to go? Who to be, and what to know?

I feel like I am frozen in place, this snow constantly falling

without the warmth of a human face.

Drifting, shifting. Constantly going without ever knowing. These tears flowing down my face, sifting.

Like sand, in the hand of a two year old.

I'm dying. Lying here. Broken. Words unspoken.

Slowly I stand, and reach for your hand, blatantly shoved aside like a discarded flower stand.

Withering I wait, and wait, and wait yet some more. I wonder what this world has in store.

For those who cry and yearn, to laugh and learn. To live and love, and be loved.

Not for what society has made them, but what God truly gave them.

So I spin, round and round and round yet again.. to search and look for that instruction book.. to get me right back to the begin-in.

Heart in hand, here I stand. If you save me, that would be grand.