The Clocks of Time
That shoulder that you cry on and the lengths of time that you see
I tend to crave so hard, desperately
Its all said than done, that makes me turn away
I can't help feeling my own embrace
The things thats needed to survive,have become complicateded, external shrive
Praying for only my day to come, I feel defeated, cause defeated has won
With tears as fluid, others drinks as thirst
"I shall not come first"
Attention thats blocken by view, seems to corner me,but I can't get through
An only wish I need to come, taken by some, knocked down by one
To be set free, underneath a mother's wing....