And the girl says “I don't really want this anymore”

And there's a pained look on our faces

because we know it's all she's got

to color the grey space the world left with its sharp-shattered edges

(-)

when she slipped off the end of the sea.

(-)

And the girl knows “No sense in trying...”

(it's her faith) when her duty offers dollskin--

and truth is full of tears--

and salt does terrible things

to porcelain.

(-)

And the girl asks “if I drop and run and fall do you think

you can hold me up it's impossible

to tell anyone you'll have to be

my secret pair of wings.”

(-)

And she's sick-afraid with asking,

shaking pale-confession arms;

You're nauseous with knowing

you're only helping the demon tie her down.