In this house of silk and lace I am not lonely. I am not angry. Windows are my face. My mother is with me. My sisters are smiling And laid out before me I see my bride. Leather on my feet. Satin fingers gently holding My softest places. Unwrapping them sweetly Like petals unfolding at night. In this house of sand and stone I am alone. I am alone. Curtains drawn and tied in place I am peeking through windows. My mother is empty. My sisters are hungry And my bride has never been born. Leather on my feet. Wooden fingers trying to keep me. Scratching the wounds of my body. Weaving wool all around me Keeping me safely outside.