Paralyzed

No other way to communicate with the one I love,
she dose not want to hear it, something she is sick of.

The sound of my voice, the words that I type,
Do they make any difference in the status of our strife?

I know some times were rough and I wish I had control,
not just of our lives but the direction of my soul.

Is living in fear of what you might become worth all that strength?
Something I'm trying to convince you otherwise at great lengths.

Caring for someone is much different than love,
being cared for, in the back of your mind I can be shoved.

Don't think that you're the only one who feels as if they've wasted their time,
we both tried to change each other for what we thought was for the better even if it was
sublime.

Having high hopes for us before I left, I guess I was only fooling myself,
now that proof of us existing together is taken off the walls and shelves.

I can't say I'm sorry enough for what I've done,
thinking in my sad state that all answers are at the end of a gun.

Responsible for destroying a family and a soul mate,
I can only expect to be received with such hate.

Hate not for what I've done but for what I am trying to accomplish,
trying to earn and keep the love you once had for me with a promise.

This is how life is for now being paralyzed,
no joy, no future, only demise.

Copyright © Jon B. Rangel | Year Posted 2006

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