I found you in a potter’s field…
Sleeping softly in your fears.
Loquacious demons stole your dreams
And wasted treasured years.
I’m sorry that the rain won’t stop
Your moistened bed is caving in.
A chatoyant moon to watch over you,
Highlighting each one of your sins.
If I could close your eyes, I would.
I’d sing you back to sleep.
It only takes a minute
But you’re resting in there pretty deep.
Kicking at your wooden box,
Screaming out your prayers
It kills you when the thing you love,
Isn’t yours
Its theirs.