What we have is the tale of a wrist

and a boy who was wondering why.

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Or it could be the tale of a window

and the girl who wanted to fly.

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It is the tale of a rope

from which the empty man hung.

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Here is the tale of a knife

because the woman had songs unsung.

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And this the tale of a bridge,

she wanted water to breathe.

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This is the tale of a bottle

as he continued to drink and seethe.

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Now is the tale of a pillow

used in the dead of night.

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And also the tale of a neck

when he went too far in a fight.

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Here is the tale of one more pill

her world was already a blur.

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What we have is the tale of an empty world

because no life is ever sure.