cracks in the window pane, cracks in the shower drain, crack in your voice, flaws in your choice, flaws in your life, flaws in you strife, bloodied old knife, bloodied old gun, bloodied sad sun, bloodied mister son, bloodied old rags, dried old hag, dried little nag, dried grocery bag. those crack in the window pane let in the cold winter wind and it was all you could do to keep warm. those cracks in your shower drain soaked your floor and made the wood rot. the crack in your voice as you whispered (i love you) showed how you really felt (i can't feel past my throat). the flaws in your choice showed your real mental instability (you would grow to regret that marriage, that kid, that job, drinking too much, that eventual end). the flaws in your life showed your real inability to function. your flawed strife and bitterness that lead to the bloodied old knife, the bloodied old gun, all happening under the bloody old sun that is nothing like innocence, the bloodied mister son was nothing of the like, nothing of the type; the rags were thrown away but the hag saw you so she goes too, grocery stores aren't as safe as they seem, and now you sit somewhere dark and quite. all your fault.
