~

look at all the many colors, so exquisitely embroidered, 
delicately and precisely sewn into a line 
organized in harmony, relationships so intricate 
how’d I [bad word] across a tapestry so fine?

but what is this? 
you’re burning holes in my stitching 
the colours bleeding into one big mess 
did you guess, I’d let this fabric fray?

I’m meddling with murderers who still deserve to pay for their insanity 
and though I’m one of them, I’m rarest of my kind, for many fell but only I arose 
it’s been so long, since I’ve seen the sun, who’s to say if the colours have faded? 
locked away so long, now jaded, left only to decay

I’m Mary. I feel like Mary in this dress. I’m Mary.

And virgin journeys lie before us, patient and [bad word] 
There’s clouds of visions, crowds of villains, mulling in withdrawal 
And who would make the sacrifice, who but I is suitable? 
who but the sharp dressed woman with a dull chainsaw?

I mean no insult, but I’m fed up 
It’s my fault, gave you the go ahead 
I’ve lost my way, my hopeful days 
are just as dead as I am

And failure on my part to intercede has now ironically 
or cosmically, like [bad word] in between our destiny 
and us but now there’s nothing left and nobody to meddle with 
to try and make it better, it’s unsettling, to mother nothing

Mightn’t I have seen [bad word] on the horizon? 
storms of green and orange, this world of monsters taking form 
but no, it is my place to simply fade away like wind 
like someone else that I could name that shouldn’t have been born

Of Mary. I feel like Mary in this dress. 
I’m Mary and I’ve nothing to confess 
but hear me, cause no-one else is left

I’m Mary…

~