What does your god think of me?

Why does he look at me, why do you

Look at me,

With contempt dripping from your eyes

It mixes with the blood

On the floor, with my tears.

What does your god think of the girl

That holds my hand, and

Whispers secrets in my ears,

As my lungs fill with sand

And you drag her down, into the

Dirt. I am a child, and you are

Smashed thrones, and the broken music box

I would fall asleep to.

Your god is frightened

By a young girl, and I am frightened

By the cracks in your skin

When she tells me she loves me, and I

Say it back.

I hear the angels, outside

My window. I will bathe myself in their water

And watch my skin turn 

Red, and flaky.

And you will hold me tight

On this kitchen floor, with the blood

And the tears, and your ink 

dripped malice. Rock me to sleep in your 

arms, as I throw 

the first stone to my head.