Mary

What looked like a mirage

Made of glimmering silver in sunken eyes

It was actually there in the palm of my hand

But your existence is widely debated.

I'm godless and wrecked

But I can't live by those steps

The semantics are totally outdated

And the love I have is never enough

It bores me and leaves me frustrated.

I'm the last to make it home

I'm the last to call if off

I'm the last to make my bed

Last to bring home the bread

Last to make it home.

Mary

You were online

The sociopathic part of me

Hit the "like"

In the hopes I'd coax you out of my derelict fantasy.

A bump in the road

Turned in to the fissure I currently live in

And though I am a soundboard to some

With myself I am not so forgiving.

I'm the last to make it home

I'm the last to call if off

I'm the last to make my bed

Last to bring home the bread

Last to make it home.

I'm the last to make it home

I'm the last to call if off

I'm the last to make my bed

Last to bring home the bread

Last to make it home.

Mary

What looked like a mirage

Of glimmering silver in sunken eyes.