Bloodied hands; shaking, trembling

Chapped lips; mumbling, quivering

Blank stare at the open chest

Where will I go, where will she rest

All that digging, itching and scratching

In search for something real, that I can feel, that she can feel

With the clock ticking, time turning

I lose my sleep too scared to hear the rest

Now I stand here, over her open chest

Wide enough to see the truth unfold

I should’ve been there to see the moments untold

It should’ve been me, the one to hold