As a being of my own demiseThe handler of the knifeA watchful eye in waitingAll the moments of my life.Little did I care to say,How sorry I had beenFor all the times I simply,Never thought to let you in.It didn’t seem so tragicIn my slumber thi...

As a being of my own demise
The handler of the knife
A watchful eye in waiting
All the moments of my life.
Little did I care to say,
How sorry I had been
For all the times I simply,
Never thought to let you in.
It didn’t seem so tragic
In my slumber thine awake
Of all the pieces in your hands
You didn’t mean to take.
It wouldn’t bring me justice
Just a picture or you voice
Beneath my skin is but a heart
That simply had no choice.

Alexandra L. Narron

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