Mother may I peak beneath
Under the frigid stone
Into an ocean of sapphire
Where your true heart may lay?

The cold frozen lips
Have yet to grace my waiting cheek
And your arms have yet to brush my skin
In a systematic embrace.

A heart of marble selfishly misplaced
Painting disintrest with perfection
As I reside annihilated
By each mutter from your harsh tones.

And I easily swallow my pride
To dial each time
Hoping for warmth; only to receive
The indifference I may now expect.