She kept on her phone a Prayer she wrote
To a Thought she didn’t love or serve
Then wondered out loud on the throne
Why life had thrown her such a curve
But her kindest eyes were bruised by tears
–Why cede the bruise that’s His to mend?
While pledging not one move toward God
Made each heartbroken soul a friend
Why would you make me love the sky
Before I fall, before I fly?
My homemade angel got the sack
These wings were grown behind my back
The Hour is Coming, and Now Is 