Will it cut your loss to catch her lost, or to see her mean spirit thin from 
the fix she's in? Can you hope to make her free when to me it's true that 
you can't decide who's releasing who?
“He thinks she'll heal him in the broad daylight, my dear daughter. But 
my firstborn couldn't fix a fight, my dear daughter.”
So said Dad who had something to add: 
“Why not go and ask those foes that pose as friends if they've ever sat 
and read all the mail she never sent? Let's not speak of this again. It's not 
love that runs the mouths on faces that she troubles to forget but 
something keeping pace with all the sentiment we sent instead. If there's 
love for her at all, then let the matter fall. The way my life has played, I 
should have seen it come. All that love a lead-up to the smallest sum, 
and a sudden move to lose what is for everyone.”
See, it's you that changed it, any way you take it! Time and again, I see 
him cry on how it's now that the day's gone by. Then, we could never 
speak our spell; now one word cuts it and covers it well. Sweeter since 
the fact perhaps, and sound to set the place we're at, it's the finest way to 
find us; just minus what once was.
What an awful sin to stay stand-in for my sister while she thinks us fine 
from what she's out to find. Tell her that she should come back for all her 
stuff, ‘cause she left here with not enough. And:
“At night I'm sleeping half-awake, my dear daughter. ‘Cause I'm scared 
that you're the same mistake, my dear daughter.”
So said Dad who had something to add:
“I hope my way implies a Father's love disguised. It's not pretty or 
precise. My advice to all concerned with the turns that come with lessons 
that you learn is that all's marked down to fear. So I just can't let you go 
but then I can't just hold you here.”