Just beginning to gather myself from the mess, then you punctuate all the names on the list. Ten years ago, to the day, I was blessed with the gift of dismay and a void in my chest. So I give thanks for the weight on my soul. I count these blessings and pray to be whole. Found myself a new way out. There's no sense in believing now. Put me in the ground. I'll never hear the sweetest sound. If I find my peace I will hate what is left, cause I've learned to keep all this grief in my head. I'm a slave now to my anger and I can't be left alone. I forgive myself for leaving, but I never found a home.