There she lye broken, torn to pieces from her past
Her past takes her, strings her up by her neck, having to see her hanging there pains me.

To see her be driven insane, tortured, neglected.
To see her lye there curled in ball, trembling in fear.

I put my hand out to touch her but she cringes
So I sit with her, talk to her tell her that it’ll be all right.

Finally after three days of being in the state of madness
She sits up faces me takes her hand in mine and clutches it like her only salvation

At this point, holding her like this, know that she’s ok, knowing that she can make it
Makes me happy to know that were deeply in love: and that would never change.