Will I ever find peace, seems to be the question we all ask? When breaking down seems to be apart of your daily task.
Will that empty space ever be filled, where only you will dwell?
Will I ever live again, or continue to live in my own personal hell?
Will I ever get the answers I so desperately need? When only you and god know, no matter how hard I plead.
Will I ever know what was going through your head, at that moment, at that time?
Will I ever forgive myself for being blind, and missing every sign?
Will others understand the person they knew will never be the same?
Will they understand you're broken, like a picture without a frame?
Will they understand all you want is to be left alone?
Will they know my intentions are not bad, when I don't feel like talking on the damn phone?
Will the Lord understand my anger when I'm not in the place I use to sit?
Preaching the word of what you can and can't be forgiven for, I refuse to listen to that sh*t.
Will I rise up from this dark place, someday I pray I will?
Those who have walked this journey will tell you, there is no timeline or deadline on the time it takes time heal.
If I could see his face and hold him just one more time, I know without hesitation I'd make the devil a deal.
It's true you go through phases and stages, due to loss by suicide.
I named this poem Pieces to Peace, because somewhere, some how, the two have to collide.
Donna West... For Cam