So delicate
This skin we pull
So tight to hide ourselves within
It isn’t much
For us to cut and drain
With but a simple touch
So delicate
These sentiments
So fragile in their infancy
It isn’t hard
To break apart the trappings
Of a weakened heart
The smell of smoke
Nicotine ghosts
In structures emptied long ago
On the better side of the worst side of town
At last she spoke
“I made my choice”
A whisper quivered like her voice
While traffic passed but it never heard the sound
Oh God, the blood
The stains are deep
A river cut
Into the streets
Oh God, the blood
My hands, unclean
Have testified
Of things we’ve seen
Oh God
The massacres we make
Of ones we crave
With sharp mistakes
Oh God, the blood
Is crimson red
From tender love
We left for dead
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