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White knuckled, holding harder never held anything down.
Empty tides ripped her under, promises never honestly allowed
and those white knuckles held to hope and thunder raged inside her heart,
fell right back to the bottom, seeking desperately new starts,
but she felt the heat and the waves and it swept her every day,
farther and outer, slipping farther away
from the hopes that she’d kept close, wanting to keep them at bay
cause nothing ever came from any unchanged, distorted ways
and no bone ever stays unbroken, not in this body anyway.
These fractures aren’t fading when time comes to seal the cracks,
she doesn’t see it a solution for lying on her back.
Her spine fashioned from paper, it’s water soluble at best
and every time she tries to stand she needs another rest
and fixing’s a fix when there’s a new solution every way
cause they come in and she lets go, at least until the very next day.
Direction couldn’t come back quicker, chasing hellbent better ways,
but heaven couldn’t bring her close with demons where she’d lay.
So she gave them all her bests and held even harder still
to the hopes and empty promises they’d never meant to fill.
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