My Mary bought a gun with

her fathers violence

she's sick of finding words

from other peoples silence

the pain won't ease in the air now

sick of the sin that sleeps in her bed now.



So whats it going to be girl?

you could spend your life pretending

that things are going to heal now

with at least some sort of ending.

The blood won't wash out in water

thicker than rope you hang from the rafters



Now I'm alone.



Here stands resounding silence

after storms of anger

the tide runs, red and greedy

peace is its passenger.

Sister your black God is calling,

bleed the family tree in mourning

splash the tear that

breaks on falling.



now I'm alone



My sister Mary.

Why couldn't you talk to me.