Don't want to cry

Slammerd the door behind her,
Laying on the couch tears flowing out.
Her face so hidden, so sad and dead.
Only hatred fill her mind.
This is only number nine.
She thought that she could trust him,
He said that he would be there,
For ever till the end.
She knew she shouldn’t think with hate,
But thoughts kept creeping in,
she didn’t want to fight.
No more strength me would think,
No more love I have in me.
No more mercy I can see.
Plainly no more of me.
My parents both apart,
My life is a piece of awful art.
Brush strokes here, different colors,
Different strokes each one mudders a word.
Each day a new piece ,
I know God can save her,
But I feel too weak.
Should I get up again,
Or do what my nagging pain is wanting her to do.
What about all my friends?
Are they really real?
Or are they pretend.
Should I cry these tears of pain,
Or hide behind this stain?
Should I mind if people know,
What should I do? How do I let go?
Then I start to think,
What would life be like… if I didn’t forgive, didn’t regret, wasn’t sorry, and even yet…
Life would be miserable for the rest of my life… if I suddenly were to die,
Life would be great, if I forgave, if I was free. From this pain, Jesus Christ on Calvary.
This troublesoher feeling, that makes her want to give it up,
Makes me want to fly,
Makes me want to hear and listen,
Makes me not want to cry.