It's these words- these words that tear her to the ground.
Pour her into these amber bottles, and guide these razors to her scarred wrists.
Its these words that seem to cause more harm, than she could ever do to herself.
And it's your tongue who delivers them so sharply.
Could you handle the weight on your conscience if she decided to act on those thoughts?
Could you live without the beautiful light that she casts into your life?
Such beauty that you take for granted?
Tell me, what would you do.
If you walked in on your baby girl, swallowing the pills.
Or holding the gun to her chest.
Tell me, what would you do
If she locked herself in the bathroom, with nothing more than a hangman's noose
If she finally believed your cutting words.
And lost faith in her life.
Would you reconsider what you do to her?
Or would you close your eyes to the ignorance?
Build your case to the innocent,
And present your argument to the blind.
Would you hide your shameful relief in the dark recesses of your mind?
Save it for a night of contemplation.
And, in the end, when you're alone,
Will you follow your baby girl to the grave,
Just to hold her one more time?
Will you just,