Man in the Corner

He held her hand and nothing more,
As she lay dying upon thy floor,
Ax to the heart,
Bullet to the thigh,
Such a sight could make a grown man cry,
Gasping for air,
Bleeding from the mouth,
She thought she had it all figured out,
Left home to early,
Returning in a crate,
Isn't it ironic what can be called fate,
not even old enough to live a full life,
She went out on her own,
thought it would be alright,
Crossed paths with the wrong people,
Talked a little too much,
Now its her funeral we speak of,
If only she would have listened,
If only she had a care,
Then we wouldn't have to bring her back,
In a box,
Of wood with care,
Some stair at the body,
Some stair at the floor,
I am fixated on the man,
The man i saw hold her hand,
He held her hand and nothing more.