Children-torn

Hearts are so hard to
give.
Always easier to boys who wear
pink.

A heart as marsh-mallow
I turn to an edge you
crack your head
on.

Don't steal my tides
I'm so strung-high
on the beach with-
out melting
sand.

Don't wear my smiles
I loose my
guns.

You want to drive a motorbike with
your mother,
love.

When my father jumps into the grave
my foot
a tug.

We're
children-torn.