The Lovely Bones

Your little girl, walking downtown all alone,
A man not too far behind her, following her home,
And when she turns down the alley and the lights fade,
She'll be thrown down; on her throat will be a blade.
Crying under the broken stars, the moon will watch,
As he whispers good-night, his breath drenched in scotch,
His blade cutting into her, heart beat giving away in her chest,
And in an old wooden box, her bones are laid to rest.

On the dampened street your brother is fast asleep,
But around the corner, he doesn't hear them creep,
With a hammer in hand, they throw him off the curb,
It's happened before, but his lesson was never learned.
And his blood hits the ground, as they drag him away,
Swearing to each other they'll never speak of that day,
And behind an old garbage bin his bones are left to rot,
His memory pushed behind, but never forgot.

In the next room over, you can hear your parents fight,
As you pray to God to stop it for just one night,
The yelling gets louder, the words get worse,
And you cry as you grab the hand gun out of your purse.
In their room, your Mother sits in the corner crying,
As your Dad turns to you and keeps on lying,
You pull the trigger without a thought and watch him fall,
Bury his bones into the ground, and clean the blood off the wall.

Professor of history class, standing at the front of the room,
Smiling because he knows the bell will be ringing soon,
And he locks the door as he pushes you against his desk,
And you cry, knowing that you simply can't protest,
But later tonight, when your family is sound asleep,
You will pray to God their shattered souls to keep.
So you hold the gun to your temple, pull the trigger with a smile,
Leave your bones faded in memories behind for a police file.

The lovely bones, they are scattered along the grounds of earth,
Breaking memories of happy faces smiling for all they're worth,
And those that shed tears for each persons life that is taken,
Beg on their knees trying to keep their porcelain hearts from breaking,
But in the middle of the night, without so much as a sound,
Another persons lovely bones will be buried into the tampered ground.

-Jenna Elphick
April 18, 2007