This is to those roots which plant
her firmly on the ground,
and to those ugly, harsh, and wild
feet which make no sound
as you carried her across
the worn and broken floor.
Then you lifted her from the ground
and she was heard no more.
To those hard and callused things
which knew no love at all,
yet still walk solft and delicate
as you led her to her fall
beyond the coat closet in
the dining room hall
and out that filthy front door
and to the streets below.
Why did you carry her towards that misery?
Why cause her so much woe?
Why lead her through her daily dance
with Death who would not show
his dashing face to her heart, so displaced
out among those empty faces?
You carried her beyond the streets
and out into those places where none could see nor feel nor hear
any final traces
of her soul as it disappeared
right out of you.
You never tried to save her soul,
as though there's nothing to do
but remain cold and bare.
But I know you knew
as you carried her far away from here,
off this earthly plain.
You may be cold, brutal, rough,
but I know you too felt her pain.
So thank you, dear Feet, for carrying her away.
She'll never hurt so badly again.
Maybe you'll always be the villain,
but you saved a mind gone insane.