madre.

It seems we haven't went a week in years
Where a talk hasn't lead to rivers of tears
And although I once looked up to you
As a young girl, what else could I do?

There is not enough ink in my pen
To let you know over and over again
That I hate what has transpired of us
Oh, that cold winter, I once had your trust

It pains me to know you never cared
Your past was something you never shared
How could I live with this visible ghost?
As a young girl your what I needed, wanted most

How am I to live with such devoid?
My heart, back and forth, tugged and toyed.

There is not enough ink in my pen
To let you know over and over again
That I hate what has transpired of us
Oh, that cold winter, I once had your trust