That I'm worth all the bother and grief I create
that you think I am worth the Cross and the hate.

I need to know when I'm full of confusion
the lies in my head are only illusion.

That Winter is only to last for a season
that the struggles of life have a place in your reason.

My chatter and busy-ness drown out the sound
of the pain I feel when no one's around.

When everything's silent but the scream in my head
that tells me I'm worthless and better off dead.

But, your hush in the quiet times brings me to peace
like brook sounds and tree tops with wind in their leaves.