| Battle | |
| The tears in her eyes they tell us the story before she even speaks a word and she says "He tried his best, I really believe he tried his best." "This is my fault, he didn't do anything wrong; This is all my fault, blame me for this" Its against her reflection that she faces all the lies that her father's ever told her and he tells her that he loves her. But why oh why can she only see love as a battle of fists not a loving of hearts. The bruises on her arms that tell us the story before she even speaks a word and she says "My daddy's a good man, he just can't control his anger at times" "And he drinks too much, and he hits too much and he hurts too much, and he never loves." Send us a letter, dear, from your bare witness nightstand and dont forget To dot your t's and cross your eyes and say goodnight. | |