There’s no time to hold blame, no
Time to tame the same Struggle she had from whence she came
It’s no pain or double there’s a fine line, a shy shame
Hiding in the the rubble of relationships; from past days, insane
A sorrow pushed behind a name,
The Name of her True Love, there’s trouble,
They’re using those rude names.
She owns it, she knows it, she rules it, she runs it.
It beats her, that cheats her, she takes it he breaks it.
The stubble on his face and dark eyes he’d claim
It’s because she won’t take it, won’t make it, you’ll see
She’s trying to fake it all day, the plain fray
Her heart sang but never again, in a hustle
To shut down this game full of muscle and bubbles
A stone frame shows no gain in the puddle;
Her brain no rabble, knows babble, a baby
So maybe she hates her same name or this pain game with no gain,
Or the answer, the riddle, the inside of a dark cage
A damp cave, the Death Plague,
Reach down into the center and grasp change
The supple and inventive creation
Acceptance of lovers a self-serving drum roll
The Finale, a finishing touch of love or hate she can’t wait
That lost state of hopeless fate another day too late
Uncovered a lost state, a bliss gate
Not seeking acceptance, approval or holy plates
She is a Holy Place, her whole face, abundant.
She was looking the wrong way, succumbing
Now recovering, reclaiming that sacred soil within
A death to precede the rebirth is so worth
The price paid, the hate laid, the blame said
It’s over.
Or is it...? 