revision.

i've got a few questions for the latest jane doe,
like 'darling, where did all your beauty go?'
and to confess to her my love affair with names -
the first name mary and the last name jane
to let her know i haven't slept since early january
now it's late november, still no sight of sanctuary
the candlelight travelled by has burnt down to wax
and i can't even reach half the knives in my back
stretching from my shoulders to the bottom on my hips
coupled with heated glass tearing up the inside of my lips

 so you'll find my childhood self two floors down
strung up by support beams, wearing a noose as a crown
more than likely in the form of a cross turned upside down
it's getting way too hard to pen this grief into nouns