Indigo Mother

Delicately Almost inquisitively I have sporadically been Carried to the back of the line An unreasonable time To inquire On this formidable crime Myriad of chasing questions Loathed but hungry for more Then unwanted confrontation And a finger toward the door And now I’m left with my head in a drag And in the pocket merely Life on some paper And I’m having a hard time getting home Too indulged in the thought of soothing the child A brush of indigo Again I’m rocking to and Go again Go again Go again Misled by an underestimated strength he never knew Could immolate the old and pray upon the new Search to find the pieces of his life he left behind And set away following the track No going back No going back No going back A brush of indigo Again I’m rocking to and.