November.

He chose to build it
With those innocent eyes
Looking up to me every day
A home with a porch all around
Steps in front
A balcony in back
A hallway inside
Well done, little brother

I wish she'd leave
She was born into a family of thinkers
But still no amount of thought
Could prevent her existence

Maybe she begins an echo
As she's falling asleep
Maybe she fingers the strings
Hearing a haunting melody
Maybe she shuts the windows at night

They'll never understand why

Just like they don't now

How could one hide

The hideous scars?

They stretch over her skin
Embracing darkly
"It's okay, love, it never would have."

Scars
Which build her a cage
As a homecoming gift

Guess she used to look up

Now she contemplates the ground

A broken umbrella
Can hide the stars just fine

And when she sees him -
Nothing as cold as steel
For they never were sane or same
No, only a faint question.
Does he still feel the beats?

Stop writing about fear, love.