Wrap me up in cotton wool
For surely I am breaking.
Every little hurt I feel
A scar is in the making.
Every time I hear the news
The tears can only fall
and time is not the healing hand
that smooths forever more.
I carry in my wounded heart
Eve’s knowledge of her kin
that loss of purest innocence
and other forms of sin
rest not with single murderous blows
but all who stand and see
who think it’s right to judge us all
but do naught for prosperity.
They take comfort in their surety
Yet we condemn them too.
And still these horrors carry on
So what will we all do?
Yes, what will we all do?
Too late for so many little souls.
Our children pay the price
so we grow comfortably old.
I look around at the world we have,
The wrongs we just won’t repair.
Our ‘rights’ to bear our arms
Comes with the price of despair.
So wrap me up in cotton wool.
I have seen far too much
And place me in a long thin box
A safe place, a coffin or such.