Boxes and baskets of all her old things Porcelain dolls, portrait paintings She swore they'd be worth something
They're just gathering dust in my attic somewhere And she's lost in a room where she sits and she stares Her mind as blank as the walls Her memory as vacant as the halls
I'm the only daughter of her oldest son I knew her well before her spirit was gone And her life is a thread woven into every part of me She is unraveling She is unraveling
She looks in my eyes and asks me my name And every five minutes I tell her the same She smiles but it's cold and dead And I'm screaming out loud in my head
I tried to pull her back Stories and photographs of her sisters and brothers Her children who love her She can't remember, but how could a heart forget?
I've been tearing through boxes on nights I can't sleep Searching for memories of who she used to be
