Wounded Head

How this feels like a floating

For the physical form you crave

And the gentle reminders

Hovering still the same

For the curative portion

The dysthymic of bold and blue

You are softened and hollow

Reflecting this winter hue

Wounded head you will be fine

Your weary legs will hold you in time

So you open the window

Wipe the grey from your salted eyes

Feel the string that once broken

Mended and slowly tied

Hope for remedies comfort

For the listless and looming moon

And the ghost of your father

Follow you home no more

Let water run through

Won't you open your eyes

Let water run through