When the world stops going ’round

A new day may always dawn.

The sun might rise again.

The moon could wax and wane.

But that doesn’t mean my world is still turning ’round.

The rain may stop.

The wind might blow itself out.

The hail could cease to drop.

But that doesn’t mean my world is still turning ’round.

The fire may smother itself and die.

Some people pick themselves up and keep moving forward.

But yet my eyes will never again be dry.

Because my world is not still turning ’round.

When will all the pain be gone?

Will the sorrow ever leave?

When will a fresh, happy, new day dawn?

I need it now. Because my world will just not turn around.