she was dressed in black
when they finally took her pulse
and she was bleeding out this sorrow
from the blank spots in her pores
and they promised that tomorrow,
that tomorrow’s gonna come,
but her eyes are set on somewhere deep,
and past the setting sun.
She knows she’ll never shake it,
that sort of crying in her eyes,
and she can feel her body dying
but she knows that it’s not time,
but they said that in the end when
all the sadness is all gone,
that someone’s gonna be there
and they swear they’ll guide her home.
yesterday’s a mystery, but no more than today,
and there’s a solitude in silence
and a heart in disarray,
and she finally finished sewing that one outfit
for the one
who she hopes is gonna be there when her dyin’ is all done
and this one is the story that she’s never gonna tell,
and this one is scraped up knee that bled each time she fell,
and this one is that speck of tear inside of each her eyes,
and this one is the face that she would use for a disguise.
she knows she’ll never fake it,
that sort of dying in her eyes,
and she’s always sort of bruised
and battered down from time to time,
and by now she knows the ending,
(she’s pretty sure her story’s done,)
so she’s finally gonna’ walk alone
into the setting sun.
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