For those who have been in a place, to show no face,
And for the places not seen, that were free,
You were never free though, but a lost thought.
The mind, in time will surrender, but for those who suffer,
It really can never end, what is remembered, but pray it will end.

Forgiving the fires that are left, in the line of defense,
The blood that makes us live, but for what, if not to fight.
What might last the day, may be another death,
And it’s life can’t be shown without the lose of love,
Hate will control what is real, wishing it were only a dream.

To dream of another birth, they know with no hope,
But it’s the freedom of hate that they are slaves to.
The ghosts they have are without a dream,
And what is worst, the past is still the present,
The blood is the same inside, as well as letting out.

No stronger grief for the passion of another,
To the same one’s they call their brothers and sisters.
And never in their times of lost battles,
They were, but never could join forces,
Their outcome must come from within their sources.

Your heart is stillborn free, it’s just hidden deeper,
Further and more guarded, but never can you lose it ever.
And never can you give it so, to change what has happen,
It’s the one’s, stronger with hearts who can see and know,
Who they can rescue, it’s the one’s who’s hearts have life.

In it’s many forms, though it only has one name,
And was only given by men or women,
Afflicted more so, in the youth of life.
Within the fear and learning to cry, and never be heard,
It reminds us how lonely it can be, in this kind of life.

Something I would ask to those, lost of time or someone,
Will you not, not know, how to love again?
Let every new day, be not the same, but a joy to just live,
Let not you’re life be a shame by those who judge you,
Most of all, that believing in God and His words, to protect you.

©2007, Ron Globe