Sixty years of sorrow,
Seven years of pain,
Twenty years to loathe myself,
The shame that is my name.
A year for all the times I wasn't by my sisters side,
A year for never being there,
For things she tried to hide.
A year for all the things i said that hurt my mothers heart,
The guilt of which will stain my face,
And tear my soul apart.
A year for all the friends I've lost,
Their faces now a ghost,
Who stood by me when I fell down,
When I needed them the most.
A year for every tear I've shed,
A wasted piece of art,
I never had the strengh inside,
To stop them from the start.
And ten more years of sorrow,
For the times I failed myself,
I let some people walk away,
That never should have left.
I stopped what I had started,
Broke down and left the road,
Gave up on things I shoudn't have,
Left people in the cold.
Was selfish with my words,
Was taken up by pride,
Yet let my insecurities,
Claw out from deep inside.
Hung on to self pity,
Walked blindly in my bluff,
I owe myself seven years of pain,
But still that's not enough.
