I’m wandering through machinations, trepidations, my stipulations
Casting out hands like broken wings, taking flight through this suffering
She’s a little bird again, yes she
Her fragile heart wrought with ingenuity
My skin reacts to these attacks as each crack fissures an open wound
Oozing out these wanderings I’m wondering
Don’t I mean anything to you?
Broken, shifted, the pain is mended
Tied up with strings and sealing wax, it should have ended
And I’m struggling to write a tune.
Missing, missing, that sweet ache is missing
Her bleeding heart leaves a trail through this room
They sing and I cry,
I dance and you sigh,
“I can’t see you again anytime soon, my love, no I can’t see you anytime soon.”
Gone, now, all gone.
I move along,
And left on the floor behind me,
All tissue and muscle, steadily beating useless part,