Lisa Barton Poet I do not know?

Child

Blonde baby, sweet sister. Lost in the crowd. Pale skin, closed eyes. A whisper 
seems 
too loud. Shattered with a kiss, tainted by a feeling. Sleep in your grave. Blonde 
baby, 
sweet daughter. Never could be brave.

Sing a lullaby to dry my eyes, a lavender hope for peace. Stroke the face, the 
cheek. 
Help me sleep. Lullaby, lullaby. Sweet hope to dry my eyes. Lullaby, lullaby. 

Sad child, bittersweet. Stand in the corner. Blue hands, wet eyes. Skinny legged 
loner. 
Broken by those words, beaten with sharp tongues. Sleep in your grave. Sad 
child, 
bittersweet. Never could be brave.

Sing a lullaby to dry my eyes, a lavender hope for peace. Stroke the face, the 
cheek. 
Help me sleep. Lullaby, lullaby. Sweet hope to dry my eyes. Lullaby, lullaby. 

Dark girl, sour lips. Drift away in smoke. Streaked cheeks, red eyes. Leave the 
angels 
that you choked. Begotten from a carving, left drowning in the blood. Sleep in your 
grave.  Dark girl, sour lips. Never could be brave.

Sing a lullaby to dry my eyes, a lavender hope for peace. Stroke the face, the 
cheek. 
Help me sleep. Lullaby, lullaby. Sweet hope to dry my eyes. Lullaby, lullaby.

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