She bleeds so little
It hardly runs through the paper
We hand her tissues
To clean up the mess
But she leaves it there
Like a scab on her face
Everyone sees it
They all turn away
We have our own bruises
And cuts on our knees
Sometimes I tell her
To just look up at God
He sees our marks
Feels our pain
One day she won't cry
I can tell myself that
One day the words
Will finally make sense
She'll know that it's okay
To bleed through the paper
And I'll say
'Here's a pen, darling
Now write away'
