I think I remember when she turned the safety off,

And looking back the scratching in my throat was more than a cough.

I think I remember the last verse the swan gave,

I think he asked if her heart has a grave.

And I think if I squint,

I can picture her sprint,

The moment she saw the crack in the mirror.

And I think I can still hear her, from that moment when hindsight lost its glasses

And our hearts took a fall to see which would crash fastest.

Don’t accuse a word of betraying another, when they have the same mother,

When the abuse she gives one reminds them of their brother.

Give.

And why suffer a witch to live, when her broom’s on the floor,

And it’s sweeping up my heart from my sleeve to the door?

Did you think beauty would look pretty?

Oh, don’t let their words fall from your mouth when the tempest of birds never flew south,

When they sang the songs that wash men ashore,

And then pecked at the trees until they shivered at their core.

No lumber for the fire that keeps him warm.

Every number in his head reminds him of the storm,

The everlasting fear that six had of seven.

There are never any last words for the weary,

And not all dogs will make it to heaven.

The fleas are too many, and the bite overpowers the bark.

But I swear to you, child, once you’ve been bitten

That night light will always look dark.