You thought I might have lasted longer,
loved you better, if I was stronger
I'd bloom in the stony garden
you grew in, because somehow it's weak,
unwilling to will a future where saving you
means selling me and buying the deed
to a house with hardened hearts
where they tell the children stories
about their mother’s lies, how she wiles
her way into the mind of their father
and don’t you worry, darlings, they whisper
*there there, in these arms you’re safe.