The tears of the blind
And the lies of the deaf.

And the people who wish for their death.

So many people lying in unmarked graves
And the people that we don't even know their names.

when i was a little girl
i thought my daddy hung the moon
he worked a lot
but i had the best daddy in the world

when i got a little older
i started to go to my friends' house to play
and i saw their daddies
their daddies were home every day and night
their daddies loved their mommies
their daddies had time for their little girls
but maybe
my daddy just worked a lot. . .

when i was barely a teen
my mommy died
a week later
my dad brought over a new mommy
(but daddy loved mommy)
my dad started telling me lies
(i don't think daddy lied to me..)
my dad has more time for his girlfriends than he does for me
(daddy's only girls were mommy and me)

in my last year of high school
my father left and bought a house
1,102 miles away
he still thinks he's daddy.

i know i shouldnt touch your skin
or kiss you because
im not as clean as you expected (and here i mean
im musty and my smile is rotten)

and i knew i wouldnt last three days knowing
i am not enough for you
still, i am lasting a year and it
hasnt been that bad

(f)all
i like you so much, and if i
was ever confused about something
i swear i understood the gap between
attraction and affection
i swear
i swear

i hate what i look like and
what i am
and i hate my own scent
but you
            are
                 not
                      like
          me.


and we are terribly similar

We cut people up. We move on. We don't have time to worry about the blood, death, or the way people feel.

When I look out my window I see you and I,
running through the woods and over the fields,
laughing with the joy of being alive together.
And in the dead of night I still hear the echo of your voice,
saying "I love you", even when all is silent.