LAURA KARNIVA

I keep my darlings in the dark,

Frozen and forlorn.

They have no torch to illuminate,

The four walls to which they’re worn.

So brazen and audacious,

I beg the Lord to take them away,

Sallow their colours and bind their wrists,

Plague them with malaise.

 

In evening’s shroud, the visitors come,

They don’t know about the darlings in the dark.

Born beautiful, raised ugly,

With eyes red as gunshot wounds,

To bring them to the table would be a disgrace.

Nobody knows that they are home,

Or that they were ever born,

Offspring of a memory too old,

That in their loss I would not mourn.

 

I keep my darlings in the dark,

Hiding inside the closet,

When the coast is clear,

They'll break their final promise.

From the darkness they’ll run,

Into the arms of their aching mother,

But all they know is depravity,

And with that wickedness they’ll smother,

Their own flesh and blood,

In famished palms of sweat and mud.

 

Now she lies within the closet,

Frozen and forlorn,

Without a torch to illuminate,

The four walls to which they were worn.

So brazen and audacious,

They beg the Lord to take her away,

Fill her mind with treasure,

Until the sunlight brightens her day.

 

I kept my darlings in the dark,

I kept my thoughts within my head,

And they’ll follow me within the wake,

Of every step I tread.