I took a pencil, and I waited words to come...
Words that I\'ve hoped to take me away from my isolation;
Words, that I thought powerful, and back in time to better moments that have passed years ago, could take me...
Words; that I considered divine! Merciful and purely kind, and from pain and agony are healing;
Words, that once I believed in them to quench my garden,
And I from its water I\'ll shower...
So as my flowers emerge from the ground, my soul as well would merge from the mud!
Yet they didn\'t come!
And I from low to lower still hiding, losing sight,
Losing life,
Losing even my soul.