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O Siren, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure.

Have no mercy upon me, O siren; for I am weak: siren, heal me; for my bones are vexed.

My soul is also sore vexed: but thou, siren, how long

deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies' sake. For in death there is no remembrance of thee: in the grave who shall give thee thanks?

I am weary with my groaning; all the night make I my bed to swim; I water my couch with my tears Mine eye is consumed because of grief; it waxeth old because of all mine enemies.



Depart from me, all ye workers of iniquity; for the angel hath heard the voice of my weeping.



The Angel hath heard my supplication; the angel will receive my prayer.

sorry i seen your in

the worst of states i feel



sat alone your children beneath

pills you take

an attempted bereath

i shunned you then i shun you now

your story shouldnt end



i tried myself the cowards way

noone close by

a house full of memories

my wisdomless demise



i tied that rope round thy throat

leant to my my death



a choke a fear a picture in my head



yes i shed a tear



a vision of what life should be paraded my fucked mind



my children and happiness

god have i been so blind





your where a friend one i called true

that day i dont beleive

found sat at a stump

f a tree

hung



your done what most wont do ND SECURED YOUR PLACE IN HELL



ya slit ya wrists as well my boys

the story please do tell



i laughed and cried and got pissed beside your mortal being



and now im lost to understand the reason

of your burying

As the minutes fade away

I can't remember

Have I said all I can say?

You're my everything

You make me feel so alive

If I die tomorrow

Do not stand at my grave and weep;

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.



When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there, I did not die.



Mary Frye, American poet (1904 - 2004)

COMMENTS

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LadyPayne
03:12 Sep 02 2013

-smiles-



I've always loved this one...



Hello,My Angel...

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