As i collect my pad and pen, and exchange my notes
& reflect on the past, in my mind arranged in quotes
i realize, through the few years i've lived, those hurt
& they return to my grace, in my journal, note worth
written in stone, or so it seems, more like mild wood
return to grace, and the struggle through childhood
friends i lost, hopes for popularity: every mans wish
and to be good in her eyes, but never a damn kiss
& i famish, over everything long gone, its a vain hope
a consistent put down, & always want grace roped
wrote words, once that placed disgrace, upon others
theyre my brothers, forgive, forget like fond mothers
theres many i've done this to, i'd like to run it through
we all have people we love - and theyre one with you
whats happened past, theres another event in store
from vicious enemy, foe or friend, either against or for
every event, however, has an affect, bent in image
from boyhood dreams to realizing friendships limits