her 13 years have left her so calloused so diseased…
like you wish your daughter would…
half a world away
it’s the sick of the unkind years…
and scars start to form
across her bleeding, tortured flesh…
and you want more
to take her down with you,
beneath the crimson tide.
slip… silently… under… the… water
(remember no pain) lost in the rapture
you’re running fast from the past
but it’s freeze framed… you can’t see what’s beyond.
her voice keeps echoing… your name… you keep remembering.
the world so cold to you
you get what you gave
the world so cold it’s
when the red… turns… to… grey
when she’s on her knees… she’s saying a prayer for me
and through the frenzied feed… she’s saying a prayer for me
and though the waiting tide offered sanctuary… i know
she’s saying a prayer for me
she just needed… someone to love her…
she just needed a kind word…
crawling, calling across memories.