Will it ever come to pass, that love will find its way to last?
Will it ever come to pass, that the future will be great again?
I guess I lied to myself, I lie.
In the grass, I gaze up above, to where the stars glimmer.
My mind floods with raging nostalgia; it threatens to overtake me!
I feel every emotion smothering me.
With all those dreams ahead, I gazed at the stars; in the grass, I lied.

Will it ever come to pass? Will it ever come to pass, that the future will be great again?
I got used to being told I was too bold, speaking my mind at the drop of a dime.
Bringing back hope for the future, burning despair left in the past, pain banished from the present.
I pour my anger, my soul out in the form of ink, but it always feels as if my words sink. I ponder and I crumble; in quiet corners, I find my peace.
© Rhoda Michael.