They flutter in the wind like the hearts YOU b r o k e.
They lie still, longing for you to pay your respects.
They are buried six feet under, reaching for the L I G H T
It L U R K S where L I G H T fears to go.
It lingers on the wrists of those poor girls.
It reminds them of what you showed.
What those girls expected to get.
How you tore their faith apart.
How I feel, how they felt when you found them.
The feeling of despair, of sheer pain. The feeling you gave us. The feeling you won't take away.