I pour out my soul with paper and pen;
seeking ever-perfect adjectives that are equally genuine.
Answers the core of “Why”.
Details the possibility of “How”.
Attempts to destroy “To what extent”.
How does one put to rhyme a reality lost in time?
I pour out my soul before it drowns in yesterday’s sorrow;
seeking release from real pain that seeps into my every-tomorrow.
Absorbs it all; rescuing, protecting, and stabilizing.
Your Love empowers me to let us just be; with or without rhyme.