Forgotten Tongue

I will always see, and watch But I refuse to speak She will drink herself Into dead, dry hell This one is a kicker She won't go down Without a broken bone Or a bruised lung My name will never In this life meet hers But I will gaze into The blood-shot windows To her black, black soul Pretty to look at It is hard to redirect Where my eyes dare to Never innocently wander Maybe I will shed A red tear or two At her long fall And the removal of Her once white wings Many shun the loss Of my once thick tongue My song is mine to sing Just as her life is hers to take I am an observer, This prerogative is owned And I know well enough She is not asking me To be her savoir