| She’s the color blue
|
| So deep she cannot move
|
| Through her eyes she speaks
|
| To your heart
|
| She’s a hurricane
|
| A storm you cannot brave
|
| Instinct says fear
|
| In words so clear
|
| And she’s a little girl
|
| Eyes closed on the tilt-a-whirl
|
| Can she see the arms
|
| Waiting below?
|
| She’s the saddest poem
|
| That you ever took to bed
|
| In candle light
|
| Questions burn bright
|
| Cast through imagery
|
| Of love denied and pain that follows
|
| Threats unrealized
|
| And speaking ghosts with hearts so hollow
|
| Sits a little girl
|
| Reeling in an imperfect world
|
| Writing in rhyme
|
| Frozen in time
|
| How many times has she
|
| Awoken from the dream
|
| Suspicious of
|
| Scars left behind?
|
| And what is the cost?
|
| For, surely, there is a cost
|
| To live the verse
|
| Perverse and so near
|
| Ink and pen describing
|
| Blood and sweat and fear devoured by
|
| The spider of the web that
|
| Leaves the heart that loves unconquered
|
| She’s the saddest poem
|
| Yeah, she’s the saddest poem
|
| She’s the saddest poem
|
| Yeah, she’s the saddest poem
|
| She’s the saddest poem |