July 10, 1998
(Broken-Hearted Sad Girl)
Why does it hurt so much?
Why do you yearn just for the touch?
Is it stupidity, or is it indignity,
Or is it just plain, simple loneliness?
Why is it that you always want the ones that are not yours,
Or the ones that want you to
Be their little whores?
Where are the ones that open up
Or the one that are only yours?
Do you know where they can be
If you do, please inform me.
It's happened again, I tell the Lord above
I got hurt again by the one I thought I loved.
Why did I fall for that big-nose guy?
I swore he was it---
I knew he was the one.
So why does my heart feel like it got
Shot by a shot gun?
It's over, it's done,
That's it, the end.
Maybe this time I can find just a friend,
A real, true friend.
I went to the park where I dwell
I met a boy I loved so well
he took my heart away from me
and now he wants to set it free
one day I saw a strange girl sitting on his knee
he was telling her things he had never told me
so I went straight home to cry on my bed
not a word to my mother was ever said
my father came home late that night
he looked for me from left to right
he came to my bedroom door, which was broke
he looked in and saw me hanging from a rope
he took a knife and cut me down
and on my dresser this was found:
dig my grave and dig it deep
mark my stone from head to feet
leave a dove to remind the world
I died for love.
I've always dreamed of my wedding day,
A very special day,
The day that God will bless
My partner and me
With red and white roses
In the house of God.
The celebrations will be
On top of a hill on a beach,
Just me and my family
And my husband's family.
A small celebration, nothing big,
So I'll be able to remember it
`Till the day that I die.
Well, when I was a lil' girl I always wanted a white dress with a long veil. I always wanted to get married in a church with all my friends and family. I can just imagine how I would look:
My hair would be curled and my head-piece would be really pretty and long, just like my hair. The church would be filled with white roses and red ones, too. It would be so perfect.
But as I sit here just imagining that, I feel sad because I know I will never have a wedding so beautiful. It's too good to be true. If I do get married, it will probably be in the state prison, to someone that I really won't want. I wish I could just meet the right person. Just one that could love and care for me. I can just imagine how my state prison wedding would look:
I would probably be in chains and in my ugly prison clothes. Roaches would be on the ground and rats would be crawling on the old wood, peering down at me.