|
Is there |
|
No such thing |
|
As friendship? |
|
Is it possible |
|
Not to slip |
|
Past the point of genial |
|
With a quip |
|
Implying something more? |
|
This is what the young girl wonders |
|
As her heartbeat races |
|
Thunders |
|
Trying to drown out the grotesque |
|
Blunders |
|
Of a man at war |
|
With the fact that he could be |
|
Her father |
|
Twice over |
|
And she |
|
A lady of sound mind and body |
|
Was not meant for fools as he |
|
Must a man be so unthinking? |
|
When he sees his ship is sinking |
|
Will he always try to grasp the |
|
Wing of one |
|
Who still can fly? |
|
This is what the young girl ponders |
|
As she does |
|
Her vision wanders |
|
Trying not to notice how much |
|
Fonder looks the old man's eye |
|
Down upon her form |
|
And face |
|
Believing she might like the chase |
|
But knowing still |
|
That he has no place |
|
As he shows his true disgrace |
|
Will my life be like this ever? |
|
Must I laugh |
|
And call them clever |
|
Or else fight |
|
And scratch |
|
And claw |
|
In fury |
|
At so many fools? |
|
This is what the young girl muses |
|
As she battles shame |
|
And loses |
|
Leaving nothing |
|
But so many |
|
Bruises |
|
Wielded by a strengthless hand |
|
Which could not hope to understand |
|
How quickly it kills |
|
Though unplanned, |
|
Turning spirit into sand |
