for he'd forsaken all he had to give you

greater than words can say

for he has given more than you needed

a death on the cross to pay



decay alone with self pity

and you . . . not to blame

thoughts of death become your pleasure

a sanctuary in your head



long awaiting peace embalms you

to prepare you for your sleep

but behold the image alters

from what you saw it to be



quiet does surround you sister

isolated you will be

the smell of death is no longer pleasant

and darkness brings you fear

your hope for escape it fades

your sentence has been served



if only sister you had listened

to the sweet words he used to say

for he'd forsaken all he had

greater than can be said