I wake up to frost upon glass, and I shiver cold seeping as fear to my bones I ponder if perhaps its best to just whisper and not awake that to which you are prone My mother you are when you caress me so softly and I know that your loving is true yet the days, few between, when you hurt me so strongly they just shatter my heart into two I walk through my solitude in a dry, stormy land seeing you, here and there, by my side yet the water you share is but poison and sand thus engulfs all us both like the tide Sometimes I wish you were only that monster not my mother with her soft loving speech for it is so much easier to hate without loving than yearning for what I can't reach So I fling your hesitant touch with my heart to the floor and thus pick up the sharp, wounding slivers so much pain, so much love, so much anguish and joy all that's left now for me is to whisper