I hang onto languid threads
Wishing you’d wipe away my dreads.
Down into the ravine,
Headfirst fell my impression of thine.
In fact, truth be told
I ne’er should’ve let you enfold
The warrior that beats within me
The one that you preyed on incessantly.
Give me a chance, oh Lord and I will
Redo my life without a culprit I could ne’er kill.