You bathed me in a bath
Full of shards of broken glass
That glimmered and swam
So beautifully bright
"Not all beautiful things catch the light" you said
Such cynical views for a patient man
Such awful thoughts of blood once shed
"It doesn't mean they're not there."
Then you ran
ran
ran
Like the coward you were

I bathed you in roses
But forgot to take out the thorns
See my beauty wasn't intended
But neither was yours

"Sometimes the smallest things, can hit the hardest."
Another one of your wise saying's

No wonder you were guarded

Now I bathe him in feathers
And ashes
and death
But the dead don't speak from their coffins
And blood wasn't shed
From all the things that we said

Like our words could fix
what was broken somewhere else
You said that only paper clips
And broken strings

Could undo the damage
One does to *oneself