I took two steps towards being freed here,
swore up and down that I would give heed here.
I made up my mind—the one you made for me.
Yes, my conscience feels guilty . . . but how do I plead here?
I once meant so much before I woke up.
Now I cry from my knees, knowing not what I need here.
You said what I do means the world to you:
“choice makes the man”–to this I agreed here.
But you weren’t around when the choice needed making;
what’s done is done and you can’t intercede here.
The blood in my veins is drowning me now.
Your voice cuts my panic–“it’s all right to bleed here.”