Her eyes were stained glass,
green, blue, and red.

Her words were crystal chimes,
as she sang to us in bed.

Her love was a prism,
broken but bright.

She was made of shattered glass,
but spread so much light.

Find me where the old oaks sleep,

where waters of mystic foggy creek

push my sorrows far away,

and balm my soul with songs of peace.

he tried to change me into someone

worthy of his love.

i left because i realized

that i could not love myself

if i no longer existed.