Another little song. Recorded last year sometime before things in life went really off. It’s a poem I wrote thinking about what actually does stick around when people and beliefs leave us. What abandonment can turn us into.
The arctic edge I am called.
You rid me of my heart
And the memories always hand me over to the dark.
Since I taste better treated like dirt.
So much easier doubting my own worth.
In the alternate yes is my other self
Solely, willing, seeking death.
Rid of all reasons, hurt to the end.
Positions the blade and lays down her head.
Life is disturbance no others outdo
And nothing so honest survives the truth.
No one makes it through.
Some version of mercy reveals your grace.
What stays is real and dies unchanged.
Quiet the voice. We forget every face.
What stays is real and remains.
Allyson Marie Arts 