Ever again, will there be
a pretty smile
a rosary bead
a little hope
a cup of mead
to cure this shame
to cure this grief
to shun the hate
to gun the base
of all the waste
of all the carnage
that lays inside
that hides away
such a small box
no room is left
no space for new
something good
something happy
this is no box
this is my brain
every day
no one makes
a move to...