ripping of tides, ties
bedroom tales translucent
screams of a child
not old enough to know their name
scars, they rip, right into the flesh
eating cheerios, box full of hope
swallow the O's, across the table sits your fondest dream
one that floats in and out with the curtain sheets stream
stains around porcelain eyes, little feet tap the rustic floor
and paper thin walls hear a crow, caw...caw