And so it begins with the new day,
wake up and your mind races.
Though it races about the pains,
you've made to endure throughout,
this toture they call life.
Thinking of new hurts and old,
the betrayals done to and from you;
All of it and more,
can slice through the soul of your being like a knife.
To forget it all would be a wrong doing,
for with these aches you can learn;
That white is not always good and,
black always evil, don't judge a book by it's cover,
for fate is a lover of many tricks,
and it's not done with you yet.
