I almost called him, but I know what he'd say
"Be patient, she can't help it that she acts this way"
I'm trying, Mom, but can I even call you that?
I'm always wanting to rely on you, but I can't
And I'm trying to cope on my own, because you aren't well
The swelling of the waves is all I see
He would tell me to let you in, feel the relief
But how can I find comfort in getting to know you again?
You aren't the way you used to be,
You aren't the way you used to be.
You died six months ago, and now you're here.
I prayed for healing, it looks a bit odd.
Is this where it ends, where I am expected to be satisfied?
Surely he isn't, he should know this isn't right,
Healing just isn't in my line of sight.
She's trying to take control,
Trying so hard to get better.
But her oldest daughter is still
Writing her letters.
