This came to me on a Sunday night
This came to me on a Sunday night
when in the past, there’d been a fight
the house sat empty and sick with silence
and I was reeling, struck from violence
But now I feel things so different
in whirls and waves of the most blurred vision
sometimes I pace
sometimes I chase
feelings of warmth, safety and pain
or perhaps a journey to the not yet seen
in golden gleams of what could be
where I’m held close, never to seem
lost in life, lost at sea
peace I inhabit on Sunday nights
now fills a void that was full of fright
I no longer dread making it through the night
keep me here, I’ll be alright
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