Thursday, November 19, 2015

First True Love (and my only)

I was only thirteen years old, and I quickly discovered what it meant to feel the pain of loss. It was my first substantial dose, and to this day I can still recall every detail. 

In my memoir, Long Blue Line, I write about the day leading up to this loss. I felt the pain emotionally and physically. I felt strong jolts of energy pulsating through my arms and out of my finger tips. I sobbed for night after night. I felt empty and incomplete. I felt as if a part of me left. 
The better part of myself who I had grown to love and accept was gone. 

Long Blue Line 

Chapter 1, Page 7

"My First Time: How I cringe! I mainly cringe because I was just so young. He was my first boyfriend, and his name was Andy. Even though we were just kids, I still believe to this day that we were truly in love. Clearly, we wanted to move much more quickly than we were really ready for, physically and emotionally. We were together constantly for about a year. He lived with his grandparents, and his grandfather picked up a job out of town about four hours away. Eventually, he had to move. On moving day, my mom dropped me off at his house to help him and his grandparents pack. Another friend of ours, Jesse, was there too. The few hours I spent watching him pack his life away was utter heartache and torture. I had a lump in my throat and it took everything that I had in my soul not to break down and cry. I was too embarrassed at that age to show emotion, and for Andy, it had so much depth to it. We were both each other’s firsts - first in everything in the romance department. He was my first true love. When my mom returned to pick me up, Andy pulled one of his childhood stuffed animals out from a box about ready to be taped shut. He then doused the bear with his cologne that I loved. Standing in front of his empty garage, with my mom and twin waiting to take me shopping down the hill with them, I had to make the goodbye as fast as possible before I broke down in front of everyone. Andy and I gave each other our last ever hug and a quick kiss with definite plans to be together again. For the next week I cried myself to sleep hugging and smelling the stuffed bear which was all that I would ever have left of my first true love. It took me about three months to realize that we couldn’t be together. We were too young, and having to wait for four years is a long time to a teenager."

Adolescent love for a small 15% is much, much more than what some would call puppy love. It leaves an imprint in the mind of the individual(s) for years to come, if not for the rest of their lives.

I don't talk about the details of what happened after Andy left in my book. Looking back now, this was a turning point in my life. There were several things about my relationship with Andy that I didn't have the mental capacity of understanding. We were just kids, so of course the adults in our lives weren't taking what we had built together seriously after he moved away.

When Andy and I found each other, we were both in a state of innocent vulnerability. We just didn't know it. What we had was so unusually powerful for many reasons, but the fact that we had these commonalities made it even more significant:

1) We were our first for everything; sex, love, emotional bonding
2) We had both never had our hearts broken prior to being together

These two variables alone have been proven in psychology to increase the likelihood that an emotional imprint would be left with both of us to live with if we were ever separated. And we were.

Now, fifteen years later, we are reunited and can't help but look back at the past and wonder how things could have been if we were not separated. 

In an article published by Psychology Today, written by Carl E Pickhardt Ph.D.
Surviving (Your Child's) Adolesce, there are points made, that are all too familiar.

"It is a merged relationship — so each one feels part of the other, not quite whole when they are not together. They are highly sensitized to each other — so both are alert to subtle interpersonal signals and are easily hurt by small slights from each other. The intimacy is deeper than with anyone else. Too feel so deeply known and deeply knowing makes other relationships seem shallower by comparison.

There can be a sense of a desperate attachment — so the joy of having each other is coupled with the fear of losing each other. And there are conflicts of a painful kind as they wrestle with issues of freedom and possessiveness, honesty and deception, trust and jealousy, togetherness and separateness, satisfaction and sacrifice.

It’s important for parents to be mindful of these tensions in order to appreciate the complexity with which their son or daughter is dealing. In-love comes at a price of periodically being very unhappy when harmony is temporarily lost or obstacles are encountered.

Break ups of in-love relationships in high school are particularly painful for the one who is broken off and feels hurt, helpless, betrayed, abandoned, or rejected. Sometimes the response to being jilted in an in-love relationship seems to be sex-linked.

Young women often grieve pain from loss and may respond more depressively. Allowing themselves to feel deeply saddened, they are often able to reach out for social support to help them though a hard passage. At worst, they are at risk of doing themselves harm. "I can't live without him!" "I'll never be loved again!"

Young men, by contrast, who are more accustomed to toughen up, suppress hurt feelings, and go it alone, may respond more aggressively. They may be more inclined to manage pain from loss by turning it into anger. They may decide to do something about it, responding to get the woman back for hurt received, to reassert control, to save social face, to get even. At worst, they are at risk of doing harm to the other person. "She was just out to hurt me!" "She'll pay for this!"

Often young men seem to fall in-love harder perhaps because they are more starved for emotional intimacy than young women who often have enjoyed it with close female friends over the growing up years. Young men may not have been used to opening up and emotionally sharing with anyone, least of all with male friends. In high school, young men in love who are jilted can be more deeply hurt than they let on, less likely to seek emotional support, and more prone to retaliation too.

So the guideline for parents is: take falling in love and in-love breakups seriously with your adolescents. Don’t dismiss them as just the rough and tumble of “puppy love.” If your son or daughter in high school is jilted in an in-love relationship, you should put that young person on a watch for any signs of a depressive or aggressive response."

Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Suicide Whispers


Entertaining a thought
so inviting and free

Lurks in a corner 
death whispers to me

All is lost
never to return

The ache of your mind
a heart set to burn

Not once
not twice

Not three times
but four

Your false hopes and dreams
have melted to the floor

A mind so sick
a progressive disease

The disease of your core
to nothing can ease

Tears have depleted
serving no role

The end of  your purpose 
is starving your soul

Not once
not twice

Not three times
but four

Don't hold on
there will never be more

I ask these questions
what...
...why 
and how

If forever is never
I'll make never now

The world will thrive 
with less taken space

Something is nothing
Death cannot erase


Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Elizabeth McNew | Published Author

Elizabeth McNew is a dynamic professional whose publishing acumen has resulted in amazing success for her clients. In addition to her roles as freelance writer, blogger, best-selling author and web design specialist, she has helped over one hundred aspiring authors launch and sell ebooks in nearly every genre. She also invests in website design and auctions.

While life is certainly treating her well, it wasn't always so cordial. Formerly known as Elizabeth Jeter, she grew up in the small town of South Lake Tahoe, California. During her youth, Elizabeth struggled with substance abuse, teen pregnancy, domestic violence, child custody loss and hardships in the California court system.
Her ultimate passion has always been writing and she candidly recounts her challenging journey in the controversial book, Long Blue Line-which is available on Amazon.com

It wasn't easy, but she persevered in the end and is still going strong. Her ambition is clearly evident in each project she assumes and her impeccable reputation is something new and existing clientele have learned to depend on.

To reach Elizabeth, please email [email protected] or visit her blog at http://poemaboutlife.blogspot.com

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Life isn't an Essay.

Last January, I was asked to offer a contributing piece for a book which was focusing on the topic of drawing inspiration after pain. I wanted to share some of what I contributed.

A Contributing Article

After writing an essay-style paper on what draws out my passion, inspiration and strength in life, I decided that it's simply not going to be that easy. 

Life isn't an essay

It can't be planned out with chosen key points, which we limit our time reflecting on. The unpredictability of being alive, is what life is. It's an unpredictable ride that walks us down an unknown path that can have us crawling to one chapter, and sprinting to the next. 

We can't have the ability to see whats worth living for and appreciating if we haven't first seen what's dark. Whether we ourselves cause our own pain or it has come from another uncontrolled source, there is always a way to draw beauty and peace from any experience. 

Some people believe in a God, some are spiritually connected to the universe, and some live without a view or opinion of the unknown. If you were to ask me, I'd tell you to step outside, look out of your window, listen to the sound of a piano, the echo of an opera, or the laugh of a child. Pay attention to what surrounds you and ask yourself how it could have possibly come from a force that isn't greater than ourselves. 

We're naturally curious because we're human. Since our creation, we have been trying to understand and figure out life and death, hoping that death isn't really the end of our journey. One thing that inspires me to live my life to its fullest is being able to let go and allow myself to not have all of the answers. Music, art, falling in love, giving birth to my children, and doing my best to contribute to the better of my own species and the others living on my planet have all been my inspiration to continue living after my pain. 

Experiences, good and bad, happy and sad, all give us wisdom and even more of an ability to live with purpose. Helping others is a great way to live with purpose. When I was down and in my darkest of days, I noticed that helping others in my same situation, even by offering words of advice or a lending ear, gave me a strong sense of purpose and a desire to continue living a meaningful life. 

One of the most difficult struggles I've had to endure is that of loss. Loss can leave a permanent scar that doesn't ever go away. I've learned that it is possible to turn that scar into a message of hope and recovery, though. People all over the planet experience loss every second of every day. Whether it's the loss of a parent, a breakup with a boyfriend/girlfriend or the tragic loss of a child, we are never alone. We're here to learn from and support each other, and it's okay to not always have the answers. If we know that we are doing our very best in any given moment, that's all that we can ever ask of ourselves.



Saturday, April 11, 2015

Newly released ebooks, Interview with the Author



Author Interview: 

Long Blue Line by E. McNew

Kindle Unlimited books

Describe your book in a few sentences.

This is a memoir of my life from ages 14-22. It descriptively and honestly narrates the consequences that I faced after my planned teenage pregnancy became a reality. My childhood was suddenly gone, and I unknowingly stepped into a life of loss, grief, guilt,substance abuse, domestic violence and so much more.


Who do you think would most benefit from reading your memoir?

Any person who has struggled with guilt, substance abuse, losing children to the system, and other hardships will find inspiration from this story, and my hope is that it can offer other strength in knowing that they are never alone.Additionally, my memoir can benefit any person who wants an insider’s look into teen pregnancy and other issues, including parents, grandparents, teenagers, or any person just wanting to read a good book.

Many readers have had a powerful, emotional experience reading your book and say it is a story that needs to be told. Why do you think people have responded so strongly to your book?

I think that because my story is so dynamic there are many level of trials in life that many - if not most all people can relate to in one way or another. The book sparks an emotion that really takes you back to yourself as a kid, and the well-intentioned yet unrealistic ideas that came to mind as we tried to find ourselves.

Although most of the responses to your book have been positive, a few have criticized you for the bad decisions (drug abuse, etc) you describe in your book. What was the purpose of sharing these incidents with readers?
 When I decided that I was going to tell my story by writing a book, I instantly knew that the story could not be told if I were to sugar-coat it. As difficult as it was, I forced myself to take myself back to those days of many, many mistakes and the consequences that followed. I put myself in the same frame of mind that I was in, writing down my every thought that I had as the events were unfolding. I did this to give myself a better understanding of my choices that were made, as well as offer others the same understanding that addiction can and will change a person overnight.
The book is not meant to “redeem” myself for my choices. That simply can’t happen and I will not force it. The book is meant to spread awareness through education. And hopefully, prevent others from making the same mistakes.

In your book, you chronicle a dark period of your life, involving addiction, jail, and other challenges. How is your life today compared to what you describe in the book?

Although my current life is not in the book, I will be writing a sequel in the upcoming months. My life today is lived with purpose. I live with compassion, and I rarely judge others regardless of their own hardships. I live every day being grateful for what I do have, and I try to never take advantage of that. I’ve been blessed with a new family and a safe home, and beautiful two year old daughter who I treasure every minute of every day.  
You’ve made a dramatic transition, from struggling with addiction and being in jail to being a successful author and entrepreneur. What inspired you to put your old life behind you?

I’ve realized that if I ever do get a chance to see my girls again, it will probably be my only opportunity to allow them to form their own opinions and feelings of me. I have no choice but to work hard each day to become the best person that I can be and live as an example for others. If I do not do this, it would only be a selfish and disrespectful way of life and wouldn’t show my girls how much I love them and want to be in their lives. Actions are really what speak, much more beyond words.


One of the themes in the book is that being a parent is a huge responsibility and rushing into it can have disastrous consequences. Why do you think teen pregnancy continues to be such a large problem in America?

I believe that society in general has formed guidelines, or a specific way to live by. Society tells us from a very young age what we are “supposed” to do. We are “supposed” to go to college, we are “supposed” to get married and have kids, we are “supposed” to work 40 hours a week. This is giving kids the impression that their personal happiness is only going to come from what we are “supposed” to be doing. I think that this is the core of where the teen pregnancy issue exists. If our parents, teachers and other examples were able to put an emphasis on allowing kids to explore and find their identities in less of a “by-the-number” way, our future generations could become full of amazing, talented and happy young adults. There needs to be more art, music, and creative programs available for every child to participate in. By helping children find their passion early in life, they are going to be enabled to chase their dreams and live their purpose right away. The void of boredom, curiosity and even depression would be replaced with who they are and what they love about life.

How do you hope your book impacts readers?

I hope that my book will ultimately soften them. I hope it will educate them, help them to become less judgmental and motivate them to help themselves or others in a productive, yet compassionate way. Anger, judging and criticizing people, and stereotyping people into “statistics” will never change the sad realities that many people live in. It’s not going to improve the future for our children and grandchildren, unless we allow ourselves to become open-minded, compassionate and productive members of society.

At the end of the book, you share a bit about your current life and your children, but many readers still have a lot of questions. Do you plan to write a sequel to your book?

I do! The sequel is going to mainly cover the positive elements that have led me to my life today, which is certainly a life worth living! Hopefully by next year it will be available.

Is there anything else you'd like potential readers to know about your book?

I’d like readers to go into this with an open mind and the primary goal of educating themselves. They should know that there are parts that will probably spark emotion, and maybe even anger. But, if the book is able to do this, it means that it must be one worth reading as it connects with you on a level beyond just reading a story.

Wednesday, February 11, 2015

A letter to myself


Moments ago
I awaken in tears

An oddly vivid dream
Arouses my fears

Please oh please
Don't make me go to school

I'm awkward and shy
 I look like a fool

All of my peers 
So happy and alive

I can't stay awake
How can I survive

Those in control
Assume that I'm bad

My soul wants to scream
That I'm simply just sad

I don't understand
I guess it's just me

Forced into the morning
A rough stormy sea

I need an escape
A person to care

This tireless crowd
It's stealing my air

One out of five
My grades may fall

I'm trying to thrive
I feel so small

If I could be
Twenty-Seven today

My grown-up self
Would look at me and say

Just like you
The world is trying to cope

They don't understand
How to offer you hope

The only one 
Who can grasp what you need

Is yourself little girl
and you surely will succeed

Don't fear the world
or life, or your peers

See creation as a whole
and learn from your tears

You'll have many more
Making you stronger and wise

You'll live in dark days
Only lessons in disguise

You will find your purpose
You'll share what you've learned

You'll become who you are
These traits you have earned

Master your patience
By waiting for what's right

This teaches compassion
To another offers light

Pen your values to paper
Read them every day

When you're lost for an answer
They'll show you the way

Be true to yourself
Stay proud of your heart

Rise over the awry
You are so very smart

In uneasy moments
Be brave and stand tall

Speaking your wisdom
So they may not fall

Always be honest
Most importantly to yourself

Never fear what comes
When asking for help

Nurture your spirit
Pray every night

Be one with the world
Stay humble in your light

When you come to the moment 
Of clarity and peace

You'll be Twenty-Seven
And free to release

Your young teenage self
Uneasy and unsure

Smiles in response
Now happy and secure














Thursday, January 15, 2015

Long Blue Line | Chapter 1

Well...reading that that was awkward...if your wondering why I'm reading this story... (see chapter 1 excerpt from Long Blue Line below

I can't help but wonder how many other people out there were also highly sensitive kids. My sister recently finished reading a book on this topic, called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking

She actually gave me her copy when she was finished, explaining that it reminded her of myself, almost exactly. I'm not surprised. Apparently, highly sensitive kids also have a brilliant side, if nurtured and understood.

So, when psychology refers to the highly sensitive child, what exactly are they talking about?

Here are some facts that I found to be interesting, and definitely relatable:

  • Highly Sensitive Child, or HSC, is one out of 15-20% of children who are born with an extremely reactive nervous system.
  • Loud noises, sudden changes, or the intense emotions of others can cause the HSC to become easily overwhelmed. 
  • The HSC can have any sort of temperament. There isn't a particular behavior linked to the HSC. Simply put, they're all sensitive to their physical and emotional environment. 
  • The highly sensitive child thinks before they act, sensing potential danger and assessing possible consequences of their actions.
From personal experience, I can say with certainty that having the trait of being highly sensitive as a child and as an adult has been entirely misunderstood by society, and even looked down on. This trait is not generally understood or viewed as a positive trait. This leaves a communication gap between children and their parents, teachers and peers. The HSC is often times a very talented person, who simply needs to be handled and approached with extra care while growing into adulthood. If the parents and teachers are unable to grasp that the child is highly sensitive, it's common for them to become anxious or even ashamed of every small failure.

Is your child highly sensitive? Or, were you highly sensitivee as a child?
I found this questionnaire that can help you recognize the signs to look for.

From this website, I'll share the authors thoughts as I close. And please, please don't allow your highly sensitive child to become a misunderstood label.

Peace and Love,
Lizzy McNew


True Story

Chapter 1 (Excerpt)

My scrawny little 13-year-old body was pumping with adrenaline. I peered over my shoulder and through my nerdy glasses to make sure that no one else in the class had noticed my shaky reaction. My G-rated literature days were over. I had never read anything so intense. It was like a first date - so nerve wracking but incredibly thrilling.
After losing my literature virginity, I started spending all of my free time cozied up in my little twin-sized bed obsessing over these novels. The characters were all young, beautiful girls in their teens. They all had a disadvantaged upbringing and faced horrible tragedy. Most importantly, they all ended up living in some immaculate mansion with a rich, distant relative that they never knew existed.
My young mind was incredibly influenced by these books. These stories started to create their own lives, building into my subconscious. I was suddenly and completely infatuated with tragedy as well as thinking up various ways of becoming rich like the girls in the novels. At the age of thirteen, I was going through the obituaries in the local newspaper hoping to find a rich relative that would leave me their estate. I also put together a flip -book of the future mansion I wanted to own in Palm Springs.
If I wasn’t romanticizing about death or tragedy, it was money I was thinking about or sometimes boys. The thought of boys would take over about a year later. To say I was a little mixed up would be an understatement.
I was always a sensitive kid. The most minor things would severely upset me, especially unexpected loud noises. I’ve been told that the vacuum, toilet flushing, and the blinds being pulled up would put me into a panic when I was a baby. On a night back in 1990, my mother was driving us all home from a weekend visit with my Grandma and Grandpa. First, I was already extremely upset over the fact that I had to leave them. They spoiled my twin and me rotten. Our older sister didn’t mind leaving as much as we did. She was a teenager and had more important affairs to attend to. My mom must have bribed me with candy of some sort for the four-hour drive home we had ahead of us. The candy was fantastic. The aftermath, however, was disastrous. It left me sticky. Even worse, the napkin my mom threw to me in the back seat was DRY. Little pieces of this napkin broke off as I tried with everything in my soul to get my hands clean. I was bawling my little eyes out.
 Not only was I sensitive, I was also very imaginative and compulsive. Let’s go back to my very firsts
.
My First Crush: We all have a first crush. I was only five years old. Seeing him gracefully fly around on his magic carpet, bravely leap from building to building, was all it took to have me completely in love. I had dreams of flying over the city every night. When I woke and realized that the only Aladdin I had with me was a Barbie doll, it practically broke my heart. I just knew that he would return one day to marry me.
My First Drink: 
Most all of us experiment with the beverage that so many adults elegantly held in their glasses. They refused to share a taste as they rambled on forever appearing to completely adore life and everything about it. Eventually, I got curious! My mom wasn’t much of a drinker, luckily. But other parents were. My best childhood friend, Holly, was just as curious and excited to sample our first drink. I brought a “water bottle” over to her house that night. It was the perfect night for this trial. Her dad was busy working late, and the only company sharing the space was her brothers. The vodka in the water bottle ruined our attempts to be discreet. We were dizzy in the hallway and giggling about how stupid we felt. Holly lectured each and every brother, three total, about the negative consequences of alcohol. They had expressions of fear in their eyes as if she’d gone completely mad. It was epic.
My First Time: 
How I cringe! I mainly cringe because I was just so young. He was my first boyfriend, and his name was Andy. Even though we were just kids, I still believe to this day that we were truly in love. Clearly, we wanted to move much more quickly than we were really ready for, physically and emotionally. We were together constantly for about a year. He lived with his grandparents, and his grandfather picked up a job out of town about four hours away. Eventually, he had to move. On moving day, my mom dropped me off at his house to help him and his grandparents pack. Another friend of ours, Jesse, was there too. The few hours I spent watching him pack his life away was utter heartache and torture. I had a lump in my throat and it took everything that I had in my soul not to break down and cry. I was too embarrassed at that age to show emotion, and for Andy, it had so much depth to it. We were both each other’s firsts - first in everything in the romance department. When my mom returned to pick me up, Andy pulled one of his childhood stuffed animals out from a box about ready to be taped shut. He then doused the bear with his cologne that I loved. Standing in front of his empty garage, with my mom and twin waiting to take me shopping down the hill with them, I had to make the goodbye as fast as possible before I broke down in front of everyone. Andy and I gave each other our last ever hug and a quick kiss with definite plans to be together again. For the next week I cried myself to sleep hugging and smelling the stuffed bear which was all that I would ever have left of my first true love. It took me about three months to realize that we couldn’t be together. We were too young, and having to wait for four years is a long time to a teenager.



Long Blue Line | Pre-Continuation

Shall I begin?
Let's see. I'm the author of my own five-hundred and something page memoir and to be honest...I haven't even read my own book. After spending a year of writing a memoir (or any book for that matter), you'd expect the author would reserve some time aside to read their hard work that they invested so much time into, and relax for once. Not me. 

I didn't have to think about what I would write next. It was already stuffed away in my dark and blurry memory. The most difficult task that I hadn't expected to face was having to actually force myself to think about those memories. It was the most difficult internal battle I've ever dealt with. I would write obsessively for weeks at a time, hardly sleeping as I typed away, and I knew that I would need to take a break when the signs of PTSD began rearing their ugly faces. The flashbacks were getting more intense, and I was getting closer and closer to believing that this time around, I really might end up in a white jacket. Reality was always sure to snap back to me when my husband called my name, or when my little girl demanded that I read her a book. These came to be moments of clarity. I went from devastation to elation in a matter of seconds. This was raw emotion.

I won't lie. The highs and lows sucked at times. But, they were there for a solid purpose. Without forcing myself to feel like shit for one moment, and completely thankful the next, my story wouldn't have the ability to tell itself. I was forced into moments of being faced with two options. Either skip over that one bad part that I really wasn't so proud of, or to suck it up and write with raw honesty

I wasn't writing for other people. I wasn't writing to "get it off my chest". I was writing because I missed myself. I had forgotten who I was and what I wanted to be when I grew up. I missed my young teen years where I spent summer after summer hiding in my bedroom reading my twisted novels. I missed all of the times where I would pretend that I was playing my guitar on a stage, in the spotlight with an audience in total awe.  I missed the moments where I couldn't just not sing along to my favorite songs, and even though I was embarrassed that my mom and sisters could most likely hear the teenage echo bouncing off of my beamed bedroom ceiling, I just couldn't help but sing.
I missed the little girl who I could never return to. I missed the kid who was making flip books of her future mansions in Palm Springs. I missed my childhood.

I needed to know why, or at least understand what could have possibly influenced my future choices as a young adult. I didn't know if I would find answers, but I had to try. I was at a turning point in life, and I knew that if I wasn't brave and continued to keep my eyes closed to my hidden past, my bright future had the possibility of dimming back out to subconscious self-destruction and pain. I wasn't willing to ever go back to that place. My life depended on this. 

I won't lie. I'm not jumping up and down over reading this book. But, my curiosity is slightly killing me. This blog (and whoever reads it) is going to hold my hand.

Never let any obstacle, no matter how great or small, stand in your way of living for your passion and fighting for what you believe in. We get one life. Max it out.


 –E. McNew


And so we rewind to a distant memory in 2001.
Chapter 1 | Long Blue Line






Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Ambiguous Loss

Ambiguous Loss

How to describe
a loss that's unknown


An undying question
if they'll ever come home.

In your heart you know
that they're ok


But what about the nights 
when they're gone far away?


Hanging by one string
The string of just hope


You can't let it break
It's our only way to cope

Once Upon a Time
Just a fuzzy distant thought


What you wish to have done over
What's left
and who's not


Our last conversation
Last hug and last smile


To feel it once more
You'd run mile after mile

Please God just please

Hold them tight every day
Please strengthen their hope
Let them know that I pray


To lose what's not gone
Is an undying pain

To live for you today
My prayer is to gain

The involuntary hope
For our parents we hold


That one small string
How I value as gold


Broken away
Unfair and gone


Living with today
For you I stay strong


If I don't again
See the memory I plead


I'll hold on to hope
That this life will still lead


This life I call mine
Has lead me to love


True hope
True faith
My Purpose 
All above


My passion is change
God's Light
So Real

No pain shall exist
That our God will not heal

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