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.