there was once a child,
bright and full of ideas,
breathing life into words and painting her arena.
she felt a pressure so great
she wanted a clean slate
but she kept adding chalk until she formed a heap on her plate.
hear, hear when she says she'd done with wrong decisions
hear hear when she says it was all a maze of confusions
hear hear when she says she's apologetic
hear hear when she says now she cant put it all back together.
first, she broke herself and then her mother
then came her father and someone farther
teen glory stricked first and then another
till the cycle repeated and became an obsession
if we were to give the extent of this crooked
there would be no scale
oh listen please the child is penitent now if not always
there's a way to forgiveness
its a tunnel so dark and long
is the other end sealed
or is it open like God's arm?
the child is penitent now if not always
she listens carefully now to what well-wisher says.