What we cannot regain,

We must only strive to forget,

For you cannot turn back the hands of time,

Nor can move that which is set.

And when you dangle on death’s open ledge,

Do you turn away the hand that you bid no friend?

Do you hold against that hand a past misery?

And watch it fade as you fall to end?

It could be simply put,

That the hand that whipped with no normalcy,

The hand that held to keep me down,

Is the hand that also set me free.