All those lost nights,
Waiting for nothing to save me.
In this cold shell,
A casket in it’s own way.
Pale and empty,
A porcelain doll of displacement.
Eyes so cold,
That nothing i saw could dismay.
Left in silence,
In hollow and empty salvation.
Nothing for me,
But a calla lily in hand.
Sad though it seems,
I’m saved from utter destruction.
From the one who sends dolls to their grave.
This abandonment is the the truest peace.