i'm buried here, among the living and the dead
those who've given up, and those who don't know they're asleep.
and i'm reaching out one more time to breath in air
but its no longer there. and now, i'm afraid to reach out again.
for what if help isn't there? i'm the desperate reaching for salvation.
its times like these that swearing would make me feel better,
but in order to maintain my moral values, i'll restrain myself.
but then, why do i hold onto these morals? these ideas of what
i think pleases God?
there is a dryness in my mouth, and i have named it Doubt.
no, i haven't fallen away, but i seem to have dropped my flashlight.
and i don't think stepping away will help me, but it looks ever so inviting.
perhaps this is a cry for help.
i need someone to hold me.
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