Upon walking down the street late at night

As I do when I feel lost and gone from sight

I thought of past decisions made

Upon review of the goals I’ve reached and the prices I’ve paid

Mistakes and triumphs, regrets that weigh me down

Often so much that I frequently fear that I will drown

 

I see my reflection in a window of the store

Although I do look hungry for more

I see only the struggles and those who I have fought for

I can see the eyes of those for whom living is a chore

The eyes of those I’ve wronged in my righteous fight

As I attempt to gain an idea of what’s wrong and what’s right

 

In seeing my reflection in that window there

I see someone who looks like all she does is care

I see someone who has trouble sleeping as she cries

This would be because she watches as the world dies

People destroy and then leave in a hurry

Never worrying about the facts whenall she does is worry

 

They’ll never know how her pillow was wet with tears because she knows

Because everyone has their highs and lows

But it is the news of deaths that sets hers apart

And so she resorts to writing as her art

But they’ll never realize why she has to cry herself to sleep

But it doesn’t matter because regardless, she’ll still weep