Don't Have A Title For This Yet

No one is alone in here;

there’s been rumors of a set of legs that walk for days and days.

Silent nights break into weeps,

driving her crazy and she pleads

and pleads

pleads and pleads,

but no one ever does a thing.

Move house to house but can’t get away.

The spirits picked up her trail and followed her astray,

and so with that she left

with the cut of her throat,

sailed off on a boat.

‘I’m free,’ she wrote and what a lie she told.

Darlin’, don’t you know, pain doesn’t care if you die? It’s already been to the other side.

Nothing new. This joke’s on you.

Oh God, how I feel for you,

fool.