"I left my hope in that
At the back of the bottom drawer, underneath my bed
Next to my stash
Of chewed-on razor blades;
It seemed like such a fitting place.
There lies that tarnished ring
From that downtown quarter machine
Given in 2nd grade false words
And pictures of me when I was little
In pink coveralls and scuffed up Keds;
Somehow I was happier back then.
From time to time I take them out
Carry them like a badge of merit
Like the cross Daddy left in his twisted legacy
But I only wear it to Sunday church
Since Momma hates to see and be
Reminded that, yes, she did love him once;
No sense in bringing up old grievances.
So I leave them there
In that worn out heart shaped box
Collecting dust and spider webs of a hesitant
Like a frightened child trying to sleep again
In a bed of silver roses;
Strange how I never really grew up."