Blinded

Oh, when life hits a minor chord;
How I miss those days when I was bored;
When days were pleasant
And minds were carefree.
When I made mud pies or climbed a tree.
Oh, how I miss those wonderful days;
Those happy, joyful, wonderful days.
And now my days are filled with tears;
My mind is convinced that nobody cares.
My eyes don’t see and my ears don’t hear
The God of comfort in front of me.
Where shadows corrupt and despair takes hold,
In what used to be a joyful, happy soul.
Hope is near;
Help is near.
The only thing is,
I’m stumbling in the darkness,
And I can’t see it.