One day, you take her into your arms
And find her eyes upon the mirror,
So that she might see you,
Perched behind her,
And hear the plink of blood
Leaping heroically to the tiled floor.
And hear the sob of a lover–
The anguish of a mother.
Maybe she will finally understand
What winds you up and keeps you
Ticking for another day–
Is not the promise of a good one.