Asia Collins, One Burden's Thought

One Burden’s Thought

ASIA COLLINS

They love my voice, but no one stays. I pray for death and pray for praise, And if I die, I’ll live in fame, But if I stay, no fear to blame.

I bet He’d be with anger and lash; I’d face His wrath in Aftermath. Hope to live. Hope I’m Found. A Burden and her Sound

People see but they don’t yearn; They’re trapped inside, nowhere to turn. I ponder their deaths; I swear I’m good, And yet I’m left with hammers and wood. I make my house and bed to lie In search of feeling all glory, all pride. What’s left to cherish is dead, not found, The tales of Burden and her Sound.

Please help me, I fall. I fall. I fell. Please help me in Heaven. Not Hell. Not Hell. My need for death is swarmed by grace Once God gives me the perfect pace.

I take my time and see it through; I jog, I walk, there’s something new. I love the breeze, and so do they, The two creatures with much to say.

That beautiful face with nothing but joy Is just enough to keep me poised. When nighttime comes and fear drains down, I look at them and hear my Sound.

At least to him, I’m not a burden, And to the other, it’s still not certain. But one thing’s true, just ask around, I will be Heard; I will be Found.