My sister Sophia hurts like a dream
a bee stinging scream
and I am the rain that washes her clean
and keeps her brain sane.
Us girls that wear our hearts on our sleeves,
we have a disease.
We are weak in the knees.
We've left pieces of our hearts
scattered through out this town
and there's barley any left.
Are you going to help us up,
or push us down?
Anythings got to be better
than wearing a tattooed frown
or being a princess with an invisible crown.
We know who we are
but we can't make a sound.
We are soeurs till the end
till we perish or drowned.
-Written February 19th, 2007
No comments:
Post a Comment