I can see your sorrows,
Written boldly on your gentle cheeks,
All your troubles and woes,
Pierces my African heart,
Making me feel sick,
'Cause I can spell your hurt.
I can feel all your pain,
Pitted deeply against your sorry soul,
You feel as if you're insane,
For a love story gone foul,
But keep hoping friend,
For everything with a beginning has an end.
Tears on endless nights,
The wretch-causing inner fights,
Makes you weak all the more,
And when at last you hop to bed at four,
You can hardly sleep a wink,
But my fears is that to depression you don't sink.
I know it is hard to forget Jim,
All the escapades you had with him,
The ghostly memories embedded right there,
Watching you cry bitterly in your lair,
Eyes open but not blinking,
You cursing and not thinking.
I offer my shoulder for you to lean,
My words to console,
Do not struggle for a battle you cannot win,
Try to bury that hole,
That harbors your bitterness and revenge,
I beg you friend, do not avenge.