death is a collect call

There is a hurt that lies deep within
One tagged by guilt and shame
Black tears would be shed for it
if only "it" had a name

If death's a pale rider
Of spirit taken form
Then pain must be his stallion
Trodding the path they've worn

And in my heart, "it" calls to them
This hurt I can not name
It cries for them to come to me
For their eyes to reflect and explain

Should the stallion trample me
And the rider cut me off
Would my prayers be answered
Or am I to be truely lost?