Can't you see me through heaving breathing
a hand which grips while shouldering
A feeling wishing I could one day feel good,
but its like I don't know if I deserve & should.

Canaries never fly with guilty eyes of sorrow,
The crows will wake me too early tomorrow,
The zombies beat to parade of marching death
but I turn a corner, remembering everything she said.

We wish upon blown genie wax on birthdays,
until the day our little smiles turn to sobs and cries,
and as adults we will flame worse than toddler tantrums
and then we walk to a death to beat of our lives' drums.