O where
O where
can my baby be,
is she a dead mystery,
now just ancient history?
I have million dollar questions
& I stand alone,
holding the bag
with an empty billfold.
She wore swastikas
on her forehead like scabs,
etchings that perhaps
blinded her heart &
the bitterness did flow,
a lifeblood
hardening her sweet-soul.
She acted bold,
took wild risks,
pulled people from the line-up,
taking potshots with their emotions,
play-acting with other humans,
as if she were the only one
with heart break.
Well,
little did she know,
she had no monopoly on pain,
I did.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
O where
O where
can my baby be,
is she a dead mystery,
now just ancient history?
I have million dollar questions
& I stand alone,
holding the bag
with an empty billfold.
She wore swastikas
on her forehead like scabs,
etchings that perhaps
blinded her heart &
the bitterness did flow,
a lifeblood
hardening her sweet-soul.
She acted bold,
took wild risks,
pulled people from the line-up,
taking potshots with their emotions,
play-acting with other humans,
as if she were the only one
with heart break.
Well,
little did she know,
she had no monopoly on pain,
I did.
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