Who Cries for the Past?

//Show me this blanket, you’ve woven so gently
Call to me sweetly and butcher my name.
 
I still embody the shell of a woman
Why is it I, who should shoulder the blame?
 
Run from these feelings
Depart from the insides
 
Hatchet away at the roots of the thing.
 
I’ll not look backwards and remember you fondly
No talent for making the old demons sing.
 
Hungry but loveless
Terrify me slowly
 
Hold me, and shelter me against my own will.
 
I’ll be the fawn, your charge in protection
Quiet the nausea, just lie and be still.
 
In candles she’s seeking some kind of forgiveness
For actions brought hastily against her own kin.
 
But I know of things a much darker blue pallor
Condemned to remember a life full of sin.//