Scabs On My Heart
by MrDaMan
Virgil R. Hall II (Randy)
Sometimes I wonder
why I bother another day.
Blind to the love,
that comes in every way.
Half full or half empty,
I pick at the scabs on my heart.
Fold up my vexations
and make a new start.
Just fold up and cry,
and give in to the blue,
yeah I am so sorry,
I don’t know what to do.
I try not to pick
at reason or why,
at the scabs on my heart,
I don’t want to die.
So I lift up my soul,
and look to the light.
As my heart beats again
and takes up the fight.
Fire up my spirit,
and try to do my part.
As the shadows vexate
and scab over my heart.
There are none so blind
as those who won’t see.
Perhaps it’s because
another day bothers me.