Take it with a quiet notion
One that weeps like a pathetic obtuse appeal
And just like a window with no glass
You were never meant to serve resolve
I will cut you like an umbilical cord
And wash my hands of your scent
Never chart waters that wave back to you
Never walk lines that create a circle
For the sick little thoughts you think at night,
Might just come back to you through your past others.
All you have is made of before
All you’ll ever be has been tossed about
Take a backseat in the front seat
And watch your barren belly obstruct the steering wheel
When you have been pregnant with empty hope
It is in your useless existence
You’ll find you were already all ready,
Say it like a prayer when you plead
Because you know you don’t believe anymore.
Your thoughts have finally gotten the best of you.
