Far From Glory.

One by one, all of them slammed the door in her face, left alone to only find satan’s embrace.

She finds herself trapped inside a mile high wall made of pure cement and fear. She adapts to the loneliness that has so unknowingly wrapped it’s tight grip around her throat.

Her voice was not meant to be silent and trapped.

And she tries to scream but nothing will come out. Satan has stolen her voice as she gives one unheard and final shout.

She tries to cry but the tears are on a drought. And far too much gunk is stuffed up her spout for it to ever flow properly again.

And it’s always just a bit longer, isn’t it?

It’s always ‘Your time is coming, the sun will shine again!’

But her time has not come and she still can’t see that bright, warm sun.

His cold hands are tight around her neck. It’s hard for her to breathe, it’s hard for her to see.

Death has never smelled so sweet before! It’s so inviting tonight and so delicious!

She was never scared of much at all, always willing to take the fall. The Bogeyman is a joke and Bloody Mary is her best friend.

But there are two things that make her cower in fear. The truth and herself.

What if they really don’t love her? What if they never actually wanted her around? What if she doesn’t get out alive? What if You gave up on her just like the rest of them?

She’s content with lying to herself so she doesn’t have to bring herself to believe that these things are true.

She fears herself the most. She fears who she is and who she’s become. She’s become content with living numb, at least she thinks.

She keeps up these walls of steel so she doesn’t have to know what it feels like to be hurt anymore. This will never help her heal, but she thinks she’s learned to be content with that truth, at least.

They’re the reason that she wants to drink her sorrows away, drown them.

They’re the reason that she looks at the bottom of glasses for an answer that will never be there.

And she finds herself looking in the bottom of a glass again to find what she knows won’t be there. But she’s looking for nothing, really.

Looking for nothing in hopes that she’ll find something .

Something that will fulfill her growing emptiness. Something that will help her cope with the loneliness.

But no matter how much she tries to fight to keep them away, the secrets she tries to hide come alive and haunt her until she cries.

Everybody’s laughing and joking while they slam down their drinks, but behind her drunken mask lies a desperate attempt to find wholeness, happiness, and reassurance.

But just like she knows, the only thing she’ll find at the bottom of that glass is disappointment topped off with a heavy, hard-hitting feeling in her stomach of regret and hate.

And now in a slurred tongue, that never really fit who she was meant to be, she feeds herself the lies that often try to bring her demise.

She’s never going to rise above, so in order to cope with that truth, she deceives herself into believing the lies are anchored and true. But they really just deny her worth, and she’s knows it, but she defies every real truth.

It’s weird that somebody can be so smart, but yet so stupid at the same time!

Because, she knows that she’ll find nothing in that scene, but yet she still comes searching and fully armed with hope that she’ll find something.

Well, yeah, she did find something, actually. She found another monster that’s chasing after her.

She doesn’t know how to love her, he doesn’t know how to love her, so she has to ask You, do You know how to love her?

Well then SHOW her!

She keeps falling down the pit faster and faster, but You’re standing there at the bottom with open, waiting arms and a world of understanding in Your eyes.

More understanding then she’ll ever be able to understand.

But that’s exactly it! She’ll never be able to understand, and if she can’t understand, how is she to withstand?

Please, reassure her there will be a happy ending to this story, because right now everything she imagines is far from glory.

And one by one all of them continue to slam the door in her face, left alone only to find God’s embrace.

Does It Make You Feel Like A Man?

Go ahead and be that big man, stretch up your arm and raise that strong hand.

Does it feel good when you strike her? Does it make you feel like a man?

Every time she’d lay awake at night and listen to you striking her down, a part of her died.

And every time she heard them scream for mercy, her heart caught on fire.

Now she’s dead, numb and her heart is burned black to ashes

Go ahead and push her away, steal all her hopes for better days.

Does it feel good to break her heart beyond repair? Does it make you feel like a man?

Oh, I how I hope you do! You really should.

It takes a real man to raise his hand to every one of them that loved him.

LOVED him. Because she doesn’t love him anymore.

But he comes at her with hidden regret and so many insecurities and blames her for the way things have turned out.

HE wants HER to come back to him. HE wants HER to apologize. HE wants HER to take the blame for why things fell apart.

He denies that it was ever his fault. He says none of it was. He says it’s all because of her.

One day he’ll try to apologize. But even then, she won’t take him back.

She’s made the mistake before of giving second chances and she wants to protect what’s left of her heart.

That little part that still seems to function a little bit.

But she wants to give you a second chance because she still has this crazy dream that one day you and her will be best friends just like she dreamed about when she was young.

But here you go again, turning back to the bottle and calling her up to say you quit.

Go ahead and ignore your daughter, leave her in the streets.

Does it feel good to not care about your child? Does it make you feel like a man?

Why can’t you just decide? Either completely walk out of her life or fix yourself up and be a real man, the man she always dreamed that you’d be.

Go ahead and mix your drink, while your at it take a shot… two… three…

Does it feel good when that liquor burns down your throat? Does it make you feel like a man?

As the alcohol sinks in I wonder if you plan your attacks or are they spur of the moment?

Do all your failures affect you? I’m sure they do, at least that’s what I tell myself to make it hurt less.

I know you’re a broken mess. That’s why you drown all your problems, all your struggles, all your feelings.

So broken, so numb, so much longing to be heard and loved.

Go ahead and ruin her image of man, destroy her dreams of finding love.

Does it feel good to ruin her life just like you ruined yours? Does it make you feel like a man?

She’s always aspired to be something more but she can never build up the courage to unlock the door.

So now she’s hiding from you and running the wrong way because of you.

Go ahead and blame her for this misfortune, blame everything on her.

Does it feel good when you strike her? Does it make you feel like a man yet?