Your broken paced brand of love has worn me down.
I was a once sharpened pencil,  now worn to a nub.

You were the sharp rock that cracked my alabaster shell.
And you never even knew it,
You never even knew.

I have no strength to blame,
There is no need to ask my forgiveness.

I could have wrapped myself around you,
A blanket that would have kept you ensconced.

But you ran;
You ran until you could run no further.

You laid yourself down.
You slept the sleep of 'I give up."

I did my best to wake you.
I grabbed you by your mind's eye shoulders and shook you.
I shook you hard.

But your poppy-laced dreams have held your eyes fast closed.

*And now I weep for what might have been.
I wring salt-water from my tear stained dress.
I weep for the emerald city that could have been ours.

Lost her innocence, before she was nine.
Left, hurt and broken,
Fragmented's her mind.

Never had a father, nor did she have a home.
Irresponsible mother,
Left survival for her own.

For an ounce or quarter, and she'd share her night.
Living in fear and terror,
In a constant indomitable fight.

Our days are blank,
A piece of clear glass.
An empty page,
That'd soon turn to dust.

Eventually you'd see,
You'd feel the strain.
The pages torn,
The glass stained...

everything is empty
my hands, now searching for something to hold
my sight, where your grace is nowhere to be found
the passenger seat, where you'd sing under your breath
because you didn't think I could hear you
I still don't seem to understand how my head is an overflowing mess
yet a hollow heart remains
because you took it
with you