Gotta Move Lamb.

Button, button, who's got the button?

so little girl
held her hands in prayer,
and cried,
she prayed,
for the rain to pour,
and the sun to shine,
and for the tears to stop,
for her tears to stop.

she prayed to feel numb,
to feel nothing at all,
she prayed for someone,
to be there for her,
that same someone,
to grab her shoulder,
like all the rest,
but she would smile,
a goofy smile,
that would tell her everything will be alright,

it's not the monsters,
not the voices,
it's her soul,
it's her spirit
that needs to be saved,

and she needs a smile,
she needs the girl
she could give advice to,
the girl whom she was there for through it all,
to in turn be there for her.

she thanks all for their advice,
she won't cry,
not because she is brave,
but because she's sick of it,
sick of the promises of
tears washing it away,
sick of crying without
feeling better,
sick of crying,
and screaming,
but no one is there to help.

she won't talk
not because she's mute,
but because she knows
if she talks,
she would cry,
she would sob,
and she wouldn't be able to stop.

and i held my hands in prayer.