I feel that each year repeats itself, only with their minor setbacksnToday is her day, and God is not holding anything back,nThe sky is gray, the trees are dead, and the air is cold and hollownEach time I swallow, this knot in my throat grows swollen and more swollennMy hills have turned into mountains and my streams into rivers.nThere is nothing beautiful about this day,nNo way to glorify this day, there is nothing nownExcept I know this pain won't go away.