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.”