22.12.13.1

And there was no art to her cry

There were no stories in her eyes

You looked at her that time

But you didn’t love her even when you tried

She asked for a miracle, a pair of eyes

That saw her even when she couldn’t see the light

Prayers are laryngitis nightingales

A Frankenstein in my own right

Snakes don’t have ears, scorpions have no eyes

So when she stepped aside

He did so for life.