Lost at Sea

She asked me once, "Do you got the goods?"
I couldn't see their faces hidden by their hoods.
The light caught her visage; she is just a babe lost in the woods.

She's scratching like a dog with fleas.
She went from a little girl to a rat without its' cheese.
The tracks are locked and I alone held all the keys.

Have you ever seen Winter in the Mid West?
Her eyes were cold and dead like that; they were making me obsessed.
Two ships set adrift that are constantly distressed.

I admit I was lost at sea.
Absent in her gaze like a needle in debris.
The sort of incident that brings you to your knees.

I warned, "If I sell you this, you could die."
"I'm already dead," she whispered with a sigh.
She spoke in a tone that would make angels cry.

Her cohorts urged her just to leave.
She wouldn't go with them; she had something to achieve.
The needle's rather like her bible; it gives her something to believe.

Like United Way I wasn't giving in.
I tried to save her from herself that night or at least her favorite sin.
Across the road she found another merchant much to my chagrin.

The next day I was reading of those who died.
I saw those eyes again; they ravaged me from inside.
I gazed upon her portrait and let my feet wade in the tide.

I haven't sold the poison since that day.
Playing chess with human lives just stopped being fun to play.
I've never bore a cross, but when I see ocean I still stop to kneel and pray.