by Stephanie Small

Created on: February 05, 2011

Infantile dreams not yet born
Twisting sharpness of the new-cut horn
Single spear coiled ever so tight
All the while, body, poised to fight

Hang the rope from the rafter
Will I be happy ever after?
Life hangs on the tender string
of the tensile in an angel's wing

Wine inside dripping to the floor
Make me cry out, cry for more
Catching worms in my butterfly nets
Selling souls to pay off my debts

Now I wonder what it all means
All the culling, excuses it seems
And here I am one broken knees
Begging you, baby, oh please

Tie me up with your rotting sinew
Has the truth ever really been you

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