God only knew what she'd try.
Obsessed with drawing lines,
What's wrong with saying, "this is mine?"
He says her pain subsides.
He only wants a quiet mind.
A different mark for every time
He thought he'd been defied.
He said she left some marks on him inside.
Blows to shape what you see.
She's healing up just fine
To take what's coming up next time.
Striking with an open hand,
Mind set even as sense unwinds,
Tightening the ties that bind.
The cells are self-assigned.
Blows to shape what you see