Rip goes the photo of my
tear blotched sari,
Whooshing out is my guilty ache,
My mother kills herself
but never dies
I absolutely deny all blame.
Blood turned into muddy brown
Now it's blooming red,
The cobbler stitched up my torn shoe
And so my toe puffs out his chest.
My child has no home
she keeps running away
from all the things that live in it
the broken, the weak and the lame
Now she's gone forever away
She'll come back yet
You're here
and the junk is withering away.
