(R. Martin)



On her way home she starts to cry

This feeling, though fleeting

Gets worse each time

It can't be blamed

For trying



A gentle warning

Pay no mind

All her wanting

Was met with silence.

She can't be blamed

For trying.



In a bedroom

Of pine and grizzle

It's her home now

It's home now

Home



Strength is a weakness sometimes

I'd comfort her if I could

But I don't know how

You can't be blamed

For trying