This Is For You, Wherever You Are
She cries at night,
alone and lonely,
cast out of society,
because she’s “too far gone”.
She puts on a Jimi Hendrix record,
and with a scary nonchalance,
drives the needle,
deep into her arm,
lights some incense,
and, lays upon the floor,
to simply float.
Some say she is crazy,
others say she’s living in the past
while others still, say she’s nothing
but a no good junkie.
Yet they don’t know her,
they don’t know her tenderness,
her sweetness, her beauty, her love,
all the things I knew,
before the world beat her up,
and left her for dead.
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