It aches, and I pray to Him,
I cry, and I beg Him to call me near Him.
He cries back
for the strings are tied to their apron.
He tells me He loves me
He tells me he forgives me
He tells me I'm in His prayers
For He's busy washing their blood
And tears off His face.
He spreads His hands
And tells me to fate my strings
I spread my hands
And He hands me scissors.
My clocks stop before time
and it rains timelessly.
My clothes, covered in blood
My letters, their ink smudged
Every sound is a step closer to destruction.
I whisper, take me home.
They took echoes away with them.
She promised, she'd come back
She never said they'd be carrying her on the shoulders.
Lies strangle me before their ropes do.
The sky's grey.
Amma told me to love everyone.
Her grave is deeper than humanity.
I cry myself to sleep these days.
I always wake up to a different place.
I don't call it home anymore.