all this girl is, is a chain -
shackles and bindings and tethers
to keep you tied down to your pain.
who are you, and what measures
do you suppose we should take?
kill it for mercy's sake -
drowned in a black lake?
.no.
feed this girl hope, and a tune -
call it bullshit if that's what you'd prefer
but from shit grows mushrooms.
who are you to tell the griever
what form her grief should take?
on mushroom or cake -
her fast she soon will break
.oh.