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The Lost Abilities



Once I could dream of something better,

Now I only dream of that which is bitter,

I used to be able to see the good in life,

Now I only see that which is strife.

I once could write about true love,

That flew on the wings of a dove.

Now, though, I can only write of pain,

That floods like a late December rain.

Once I knew of what it felt to be happy,

Yet now Life seems to me very crappy.

And I once knew how to talk to people,

While my fingers sat like a steeple,

As they told me of their problems,

That I might be able to solve them.

But now I cannot even look at those,

At those that I used to hold so close,

At those that I used to hold so close,

Without wanting to scream and run,

From the pain that has taken away the fun.

Now I can no longer that which I once was.

No matter what any one else does,

To try and make me glad,

I seem always to be sad.

I follow the path that my mind has set,

Always trying, yet never being able to forget.

Always hoping for a better chance,

Yearning for another dance.

It seems that once I could have said,

Anything and everything that came into my head,

No matter who I am saying it to,

So long as it were completely true,

Now I cannot say a thing to anyone,

No matter what they’ve done.

I cannot find a way to make myself hear,

That which other people fear,

Even as it comes from their own mouth,

For I am always headed south,

Trying to find a more pleasant place,

Even a nicer, better human race,

Because I long to happy again,

Truly happy, for maybe only then,

May I be able to do again,

That which I now, only think I can,

Yet now I know it cannot be true,

At least not until I have You.


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