Are You Listening?
There's no conversation, words without remorse.
You died and I’m here,
Thinking that I hear your voice.
Wake me from these dreams of you in my arms.
I beg you God tonight bring me peace.
Tear out these veins that own my heart.
This skin that wears your lasting marks.
Sometimes it gets so hard to breathe.
Somebody please tell me,
What am I suppose to do?
Copyright © Fiona Hauber | Year Posted 2006
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