Caleah

More than any swollen eye, love holds the door ajar, a hair break down the line, inflated or on the wane, she can cry if she pleases, if the same happens again, home is not a pig sty, compared to that other hoopla, made by another's lies, who needs this game, she brings a doll's stare, the mental pictures she frames, by water she asks why, swears she'll go far, never forgets the war inside, Hell is on the fly, or the highway burning tar, she sees the harvest light, where's her Da ?