Beat my drums
Feed my beast
Show me to how to take.

You tell me you only drink white wine because it doesn't leave any stains when it slips from your lips and drips onto your white pants. And you always wear white pants when you drink wine, yet you only drink wine when you're feeling lost. But how could you feel lost when I am here holding your hand trying to lead you through the fog. The light at the top of the lighthouse is so bright and beautiful I do not know how you fail to see it. It is flashing your name in morse code but instead you are sat on the basement floor your head resting against the edge of the couch and the wine keeps slipping but there's nothing to show for it.
You keep drinking.
Later in the night just as I am falling asleep you sloppily laugh, monotone and quiet, look at me and slur
"I love you because when you leave there will be nothing to show for it, you will not stain me red."
And then you pass out on the floor, empty bottle rolling under the couch. It is silent except for your snores and my breath.
I try to tell myself you were drunk but the truth has a way of slipping out when you can't even keep the drink in and I wonder if that's just another way to say the only one in love is me.

They sit in their beautiful growth. They are observed from afar. They mark these areas, firmly staked into the ground. All it takes is one selfish, careless person to rip them out. After that, their seeds dont shake and blossom anymore. They decay and wilt. Become nothing more than a dead, pretty thing that use to be.

We never had enough when we were young.
We never needed much, but the exact amount was unknown.
We never got enough; toys food or clothes.
We didn't need that much, so "barely" was the most.

We never got enough of your time.
We didn't understand, the eldest not yet nine.
We didn't get enough, affection or warmth.
We never took for granted, but your time spent was short.

We didn't want more than enough, somehow understanding all you had.
We never asked for much: to play or share or cuddle.
We never got that, you liked to stay in your bubble.
We didn't ask for this, to be born, or brought into your life.

We didn't choose the love, or the lack thereof.
We didn't need the money, you hid away from us.
We had enough for us four, your greed was just because.
We had enough, We had enough, We had enough.

We had enough time, to learn proper affection.
We had enough vocabulary for simple conversation.
We had enough feelings, to know you didn't care.
We were not selfish, so why didn't you share?

Was it that we weren't enough, you needed a new man?
Was it that we weren't calm enough, it got out of hand?
Was it that you didn't have enough, of the finer things in life?
Was it that you didn't think enough, before becoming an underage wife?

Now we live out our lives, believing we aren't enough.
Now we live out our lives, always trying to be more, never being enough.
Now we live out our lives, working hard at enough.
Now we live out our lives, still not understanding the problem wasn't us.