Poem: Going, Going, Gone

When in broad school, I saw a brief churchlike flick supported on Myra Brooks Welch's poem of the aforementioned name, "The Touch of the Master's Hand." Using the environment of an sell to nonconvergent Christ's fuck for apiece of us, though we likewise are "battered and scarred," the poem and flick are extremely  powerful to feature the least. I wrote the mass patch intellection most these entireness and the rue that comes from not discernment the enthusiastic generalisation of Heaven's love. You crapper feature Myra Brooks Welch's poem at the modify of this Boyd K. Packer talk, if you're interested. Her poem's apparently better.

Sleeping ended the day, employed ended the night
Scared to wager the light, sunshiny in her eyes
Putting on a mask, modify for the mirror
Fooled that there's no hope, pretending it's clear

She goes on and on and on, but she's going, going, gone
She goes on and on and on, but exclusive she's gone

Given up on life, ended existence right
Not disagreeable to grappling her fears, she's presented up the fight
While pressured down, and movement every alone
She's intellection the worst, but not making it known

She's mitt every her faith, meet pushed it aside
Knowing that she's failed, she's forfeited the module inside
Hoping there's an end, to this resigned state
Not realizing now, it was never likewise late

She goes on and on and on, but exclusive she's gone
She goes on and on and on, but she's chosen gone.