One Missing

I want to write a song today from six feet under here. Won’t paint to kill the dead saints but I want to make it clear that I’ve been praying in the dark while lying in this grave, and wishing the bathwater clean in hopes that it can save. I hope to finally find the strength. I know I have to try, but so far every effort yields the gist of one big lie. That’s why I’m here, I’ve learned there is no X amount of words that have the power to change despite how many I have heard. But I know I’m the one who has to claw my up through this dirt room I have called my home, it’s time for me to do whatever it takes can’t you see, the end is at the door? I want to rise and feel that I’m not broken anymore. Cuz everything is changed by time, why should I die alone? Why shouldn’t I break through this ground, rise up and make a home? So I will write a song today as if I were a king, then you will know, “I won’t let go” by every word I sing.