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The Woken Trees
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Children of Chalk
those splinters of glass in in your eyes
are turning my love
into sickness and dust
those scratches from thornes
on your back
are turning my flaws
into children of chalk
the secrets and lies in your mouth
are turning my words
into prayers and howls
with stained hands you cherish my face
they used to be clean
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not rotten and foul
you sew my hands together
forcing my to prey
force me to see
you burried yourself in me
forcing me to care
force me to see
those splinters of glass in in your eyes
are turning my love
into sickness and dust
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