The last time I heard you say
Oh, the last words I heard
in the dark, almost a dream
the words I thought you said:
“If you hear me coming
through these four empty walls
If I won’t bring you flowers,
I’ll get you something red.
If, in this pleasant valley
instead of spinning like a top
I lay my head to your ground,
take your rain, wash your scar,
it’s because of the devil,
that came when I was gone.”
Oh Daddy, I know, the pain,
lost as you are, in constant war
hungry, or cold, or drunk
I know too what it feels to be cut.
I don’t want, not from now on.
Not a little girl, not anymore.
As I look, without you, to the far
as I take my canvas bag, filled
not with cash or makeup
but with wish, with my core
As I look without cynicism
to the real landscape in front
I promise you this. I won’t,
until I drop, ever give up.
jam09
