Six years,
Scorched tongues.
Bleeding palms and watermarks
and ash in my lungs.
Six years,
stumbling down.
Have we seen the worst of it?
What is to come?
If you see me perish,
if you hear me scream,
you'll know I pulled that ripcord and I'm
letting the hurt out.
God if you are willing
you can make it clean,
Siphon off this awful blood in me.
Take it away now.
But it's so, dark.
And it's so, cold.
And I have never seen the earth lie still.
Could you take this,
could you make us,
better?
I will never say no to you.
When I'm falling with you
I know I'll never hit the ground.
And I'll never hear my bones make
that awful sound.














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