The Clocks of Time

That shoulder that you cry on and the lengths of time that you see I tend to crave so hard, desperately Its all said than done, that makes me turn away I can't help feeling my own embrace The things thats needed to survive,have become complicateded, external shrive Praying for only my day to come, I feel defeated, cause defeated has won With tears as fluid, others drinks as thirst "I shall not come first" Attention thats blocken by view, seems to corner me,but I can't get through An only wish I need to come, taken by some, knocked down by one To be set free, underneath a mother's wing....