to love her.
The little girl you used to be.
She lies within you.
”I don’t believe in an interventionist God,
But I know, darling, that you do.
But if I did I would kneel down and ask him,
Not to intervene when it came to you.
Not to touch a hair in your head,
To leave you as you are,
And if he felt he had to direct you,
Then direct you into my arms.”
You get depressed because you know that you’re not what you should be.