I've just seen you
New you
Old you is gone
Lost in the melody of the
Song which once ours
"I'm no superman, I
Hope you like me as I am"
Pity that songs aren't always true.
Old me misses the old you.
But new me can see,
That you and I were never meant to be.

When you saw me I saw no shock
Not even a hit on the lock of your heart
Which I so longed never to part with.
I was so innocent then
That was back when, I was pure
And demure
And sure that none could ever want me
Unaware of the power of the stare
Upon me bare
Unaware of the care I should have kept with me there
In your sights
Every part of me convinced you were about to take flight
Leaving me with only ragged feathers
To clutch in the night of my terrors
And pray and wish it wasn't true
That I had lost my only purity:
You.

Emptied out the suitcase of my thoughts
I'm kinda tired of lugging them around
Searching for a place to just feel sore
Without some ******* telling me
To flip my smile around

If I could? Don't you think I would?
If I could just blank out the bullcrap of today
If I could? You bet I would.
Funnily ******* enough, things don't quite work that way.

Wiping away the scratchmarks of the day
With the antiseptic wipe of yet another pill

I am the eye of the storm
the break in the waterfall
caught in the balance
of suspension
I lie
surrounded by destruction.

A blizzard rages
far away
so far away now.

It surrounds me.

But I feel no pain,
there is not a spec
you see
of me
left.

This is the calm of acceptance

involuntary

unnatural

immovable
improbable

acceptance.

Play me like your instrument
Reach inside
And find the notes,
Unplug the headphones
And watch me float
On natures music
If you should choose it.

Reach inside and unzip
My second skin,
Stroke the snare as
I watch,
Strip me, lay me bare,
Prepare.

Reach inside, and pull
Back the sheets,
The clink of springs
A xylophone,
Trickling out a tune,
Soon.

Reach inside, and pump
The pillows, watch the
Noise filled pause billow
Out rest stops of tension
And apprehension.

Setting for the show

Change emotion with the motion,

Now

Reach inside and grip
My heart
It's urgent bass beat cues
The start, the warm up
Of this performance.

Now.

Reach inside and slip
Through my blood,
Your music shivers
Up my veins,
An invisible trail,
I beg you,
Take what remains

Now

Reach inside and ******
My lungs away,
The heavy gasp of breath
Beats beatbox any day.
Take them, they're yours.

Reach inside and whisper
in my ear,
Unleash a hum of empathy,
Steer me, clear me
from the coast with the
Ships of my hips.
Take them, they're yours.

Reach inside and pluck
on my strings
Take your pick and
Weave your way
Within.
Take them, they're yours.

Reach inside and finger
at my chords
The ****** of the piece
Applause enough to live on,
Each gasp lingers, strong.
Take them, they're yours.

Each gasp lingers through.
Clear

Reach inside and find
the notes,
My lyrics soaked in
Joyous expletives
Raw and sensitive,
Take them, they're yours.

Take me, I am yours.

There were sparks on her breath
Where the fire's caress had left her
tongueless,
the yolk of youth spat the
wrongness of existence.
Take the high road
***** resistance.
****** it's folds of fat.

The guilt of passivity sat
dead, and diseased, in
her throat
Invisible moat cutting into
face,
erase her social security
and the soft sand slopes of
unmarked dark purity.

The girl's existence fought
clarity
An apple lacking search
for sanity.

Once inside her mind, the girl
fought free:
she cupped the face of maturity
and licked his salty lips
her tongue scenting soulless spit
upon a torn pervaded face.
Ripping a loveless, humbled, embrace
into ashes, her
imagination cymbal clashes in
realities orchestra.

Shooting sighs worked up
her vertebra. Her lips, as
faithless as Cressida, lay
curled and cut forlorn
at her feet. Her tangled
continuation a
mangled, drawn out
defeat.

Life force-fed her a caps-locked
delete, a sunken voice sang of
soft sleep.

But the stump of a tongue
pressed
Repeat.

Tell me a story, or I won't even blink,
I want you to take me to worlds that I
think I could find beauty in, places
to hide deep within like an inside
joke, or a laugh, or a path
to take into Neverland,
a bridge to Wonderland,
any land
as long as I can have you in it.

Tell me a story, fill my sinuses with stink,
I want to feel the ship I want to smell
the brink of desperation, to feel
a strange, secure, separation to
myself, filled with a wealth of
nonsense knowledge, take me
through foliage and laugh as I
bask in a seething sun,
come on, let's go, I crave fun.

Tell me a story, help me taste a
waste of time, I want to laugh a
rhyme and commit the crime
of uselessness and happiness and
bonkerness and silliness and fun
watch me run into a field of fantasies
tongue sampled teas and
smile at simplicities'
sanctuary.

Tell me a story, and allow me to touch
a part of your mind you let
locked away, darling, parent, sibling,
quibbling cognitive miser
tell me a story and you'll end up
wiser for knowing it, for imparting
it, let's party it and part with the
sweetest words of goodness,
I could hear from you

To be **continued

Apparently I talk as though
something's missing from your book.
I laugh because I know there's not, yet
I'd be lying if I said that I
hadn't already looked.

When I speak of you my words reveal
none of that which you've become,
I dare not tell them what you mean to me,
nor how you make me feel, once more,
young.

I'm feel as though I'm wobbling from
the sturdiness of your grip.
Unbalanced and uncompromised,
I'm bracing myself to slip
away from you.

I'm waiting for you to leave,
preparing myself to grieve
over your loss. A small voice
attempting to convince that
I never gave a toss for you
at all.

If that voice was right, then I wouldn't feel so small
without you.

You worry me

I haven't felt you attempting to hurry me along,
nor have I felt the need to
long for your affection,
your regular attention shows a surprisingly
full acception and reflection
of myself.

You're lifting me from the shelf of my creation,
my elation dampened simply by surprise
and shock
that the rock I have been clinging to wasn't
such a burden after all.
In fact it became a tool and
rule of our companionship
which I timidly, yet confidently, accept
to be becoming
a relationship.

Welcome to the Mad House.
(I hope you decide to stay)

I know this feeling
I know it well
And on the day
Which they did fell
Red flag, green flag
Blue and gold
A story which remains untold
The kettles boiling
The birds have flown
They match the letters on the gravestone
Assassination, a cold surprise
The bullet which we hide behind
The red flower falls
The deed is done
But do we know who really won?

I never had a care for myself,
as long as I felt alive
and did survive
I never strived
to protect my shell of skin,
until she pried me from within.

For, although I still felt numb
I lay, for once, undone
before the one who prompted
love's bittersweet curse.
The one I could not reverse,
nor find a remedy,
to stop my pain to you
from me.

When I am cut
you bleed,
and when a burn
scorches my thick hide
and guilts my inside,
as I watch you suffer for my sin.
I hurt within,
as you writhe from a blow dealt by a kin.

There is no graze or scar
upon my body which she has not felt,
no beating I have dealt
upon myself
which has not gone to her
twicefold.
My heart burns cold
at the blow that she,
loveliest of creatures,
was dealt
me.

But, you see,
I've accepted that yin to my yang you must be.

So I hid it
Took it like a written confession and
swallowed it
Decades of genders, females and
males screaming, as I melted down
the word on my tongue they had fought to keep,
that they had killed for and won.
As I joined a flock of sheep who wouldn't
accept a goat
Who didn't want to listen when I wrote down
that I believed in the allegedly frown-worthy
opinion that equality should exist.
That it should be taught right from the yolk
of existence.
That it's regulation requires persistence.

They told me that prejudice was a myth
Ironic, they also told me I shouldn't exist
Told me I was lesbian, like it was an
insult, when I decided to stage a revolt and
mark the popular girl in netball
and win.
self high five
Oh dear, what a schoolgirl sin to
perpetrate.
I was taught to take hate by the masses who
yelled that
the classes of acceptance
were unnecessary

Popular girl: small correction, although
I cannot say you personally give me
a feminine *******, I'm bisexual, get it right.
Also examine the fact that you thought I'd only fight
because I wanted you.
When in fact I both loathe and pity you, you
do not understand your worth, and you don't
give proper respect to the earth of your
elders.
Who have handed down shoulder to shoulder
something different from the everyday pain.
They've handed down the hope that their strivings
were not vain, and one day this war will
cease.

The smoke of a pen, not
a gun, calling
peace.

So, I am a feminist and I call for release.

because I'm only meant to look like a ****
I shouldn't have any of the fun
you ******* me with your eyes
is what you think my monogamy should be
Locked up wankbank
you want a photo of me playing with
a key

**Have a stop

Hello in-built shell,
how shell-fish of me to think
I could avoid your beckoning
bell, of self pity.
Let us welcome in Sin-City.

Here is every bad thought you've
ever had.
Every signal sad wander
clad in bleak black memory.
The goodness drifting away
in a puddle of ink,
removing my ability to think
clearly.
No matter how dearly I cling to
the loved ones.

Look to your right and there's the
childhood.
Which you would not change even
if you could.
Because, detested as it seems, I still
feel a gleam of familiarity and
clarity
from my gloriously ****** up family.

Look to your left and you'll see yourself,
bereft of all emotion,
going through the motions of
life,
burning cold, rife
with emptiness.
Positively cesspit.

Look down, not straight ahead,
and you'll see all of the relationships
left dead on the highway of life.
The ghosts of what you said
pinning them anchored to drown,
stapled further by words
you regretted typing down.

Look up, far up in the sky,
endless arch of black,
dark harpies shrilly whispering
all that you lack.
The only crack of light, lightning,
allowing further attack
on your senses.
It dispenses quickly with
the pleasantries.

You're a regular here.

Now look sharp straight ahead,
stop stooping with dread.
Look up to the light, and fight
for the figure you see.
Look past the debris, and into her
eyes,
whose blue offers glimpses of less
stormy skies.
They speak of cold coffee, and
too milky tea.

Pedal your boat faster

She's where you're meant to be.

Think Positivity.

The sea waits watchful
Wanting me back
To wade through shallow
Bottomless waves
And drift my way
to peace.

I shall resist.

And I am the knight in shining armour
and he is the damsel in distress.
I can't let myself rest until he is safe, but
it does not help my case that he seems to think
the dragon is his friend, and I only
pretend when I say that I Love Him.

Because being far away from someone is harder
than any bard will ever make out, it feels so empty to think
that if you shout the hardest you can, they
still cannot hear you, and
even if you ran it'd be too far to do in
a day.
So, instead, you just have to stay your palace
and pray, as
you watch them
dance in flames.

You can't rearrange their head, so it tortures you
when they wish themselves dead, because you cannot soothe them, and that is all your fault, and your brain dips
a tendril into the vault of the memories of sins,
it reaches out to within, just to give it a stir,
You feel your edges blur, because if you can't keep them
alive
then what good are you?

You're only a one, if your one adds up to two
Stew quietly
You must find a way to stay strong and quietly long
for reprieve,
You find yourself feeling relieved when you make
it to the end of the day without having to debate with
them whether or not they should stay, or
pass over.

Make wishes on four leaf clovers
and wonder, did I make his life this?
Blaming every kiss you might have done
wrong. Longing for reassurance that
never comes
This is your fault
His words echo your thoughts
This is your fault

It's hard not to feel tired.

When it's a game if you can make it to the next week
A gamble of letting someone see you weep
or holding it in again to possibly explode out.
The battle of trying to tell yourself
That it isn't weak for wanting shout at them to phone
and moan down the phone in person
So that you don't think there's a chance
a possible
a haunting of the
idea that the word 'silence' means you
should start grieving

At least on the phone you can hear them breathing.

Today it's a battle,
Tomorrow there'll be more.

Tonight I'm feeling unattached
Unmatched
Unabashed
Mashed
Blended
'Spended'
Pended
Re­ndered
Rent
Lent
Out to the highest bidder
As they snigger
At their puppet.
I don't know how to stop it.
as I sit laughing into the precipice
A kiss of death
Away from oblivion
Get a ****** move on.

Perhaps I'll soon be gone

Perhaps I've been too long

Perhaps

Tonight I dream of spiders
Hair spun, fat filled, scuttling legs
Quiver over my body and thighs
Eyes, ears, mouth, a tongue
A taste perforates through my eyes
Spills into my skull

Splat, Slash, Splot
Scuttle

Tonight I dream of Isolation
My footsteps fall on empty ears
Searching for life
Fearful, Tearful
Ripe with Strife
What does this matter?
I cannot be seen.

Unhear my own quiet screams
Please,
I want to
I need to
unhear.

Tonight I dream of running
An unseen assailant
I know, wishes to
attempt on me harm

You can't be calm
I can't, You can't
I Must
You mustn't provoke me.

I wake reaching
Reaching
Reaching

I find nothing
But empty solace.

Tonight I dream of fighting
Clockwork childhood
Figures slicing at my
face, racing me
to death.
A metal axe, a clawed
arm, walls with eyes,
a broken staircase,
distorted laugh, a
past repeated.
'Treated' to terror
remember me
dismember me
tenderly
race me
erase
me

I can't seem to wake up.

I'm sorry that
I wasn't enough
Whilst you were
Rough
and Tough
I was small
so,
though I
gave my all to
you
you ran me through
with impatience
a need for me
to be
more than I was
or ever could be
I guess that all I
want to say is that:

I'm sorry that you were you
and that I was merely me
but I suppose that, in the
end,
that's just the way
it was all
meant
to be.

You are still you
and I have finally accepted
that I will always be
me.

Today I wrought a terrible thought,

I imagined
cutting pain tracks
underneath eyes
so that tears
sting
with salt.

Grievous Assualt

I'm not sure which is the worst
That I thought it
Or that I sought it

So, I want to make them happy
with me
with themselves

But I think I'm a bit **** at it

Like a mother picking up scattered
toys, there's always another piece of
lego to step on, always another
stubborn stain, and whilst
clearing you have to
activate your brain
because any
moment
they
might
trip and hurt
themselves again.

And if they do, you know, irrationally, that
in yourself you'll find the blame.
You're really trying not to show the strain,
because it won't help,
it won't heal, instead
rub your very bruised heel and
steel yourself for the next storm, recall
the times you've thought I can't go
on
and remember that you did.

Don't kid yourself, the
kids are alright
and you are too, allow
yourself to be one too.

Youth, after all,
is in the mind.

Try, for yourself,
for them,
Be kind.

I write, but it all seems pointless
Disjointed,
Useless, and Dejected.

This way of expression I created
Has seemed to still and stopper
A Goner.

Done for. Finished.
I used to relish the kiss of
inspiration and entanglement
into something that seemed purer
than myself

Now, my words dust on a shelf
Inspiration strikes and snaps;
disjointed and useless.

Sapped.
I find myself writing for a voice
, and musical ability, which
I do not possess

I pray I will be able to pick up a pen soon
And write away this uselessness.

Do you feel sad?
Are you okay?
Are you alright?*

...do you really want to know?
Perhaps I should fill you in.
After all I'm filling to the brim
with repressed emotion, why not
make a rotation,
for your private freak show.

Go ahead and try to demean me.

I don't feel sad,
I feel worse.
I am filled with the
emptiness of
humanity.
Trapped within this
bubble of skin.
I am still disconnected,
unattached,
'free'.
I am, frankly, desolate.

I'm not okay.
My ****** functions
may
lie normal,
my vitals may be
strong,
but I am not 'okay'.
Who are you to say,
just what constitutes okay?
My life may seem fantastic
to you, but hiding
my emotion
is nothing new to
me. I am, after all, an
expert you see.
Why can't you just allow me to
be? without ripping to show
that which makes me
me.

I will never be alright,
this tight ball of
anxiety is
lodged in my throat
an invisible moat
separates me from
the ones my loneliness longs
to reach.
I am beached, on the shores
of my mind.
Desperately hoping for
someone to find me,
desperately hoping that this
time, their actions will
be kindly.

Stop asking questions
you've already made an
answer too.
Don't attack me for showing
weakness, this rot
goes deeper than you will
ever know.
Allow me time to sew the smile
on my face, to deface the battle scars
I should wear with pride.

Unlike you, I wear my medals inside.

I am strong, and I've had to be
for longer than you will ever know.
And, without your 'sympathy' I shall
continue to grow.

I shall be better than you will ever see.

What makes up a thought?
The script in italics?
The emotional voiceover?
How do you define a thought?

"the action or process of thinking"
That is it's literal allocated form, a
string of letters, used to show a
multitude of meaning.
Break
          It
             Down
Thought
Thinking
Sentences
Words
Letters
Alphabet ( the basic elements in a system that combine to form complex entities)
Symbol
Emotion
Rational
Moral
Hormonal
Genetically engrained

How do you describe thought?
I cannot leave things unsaid
And yet,
there is no way to say them, without
telling a half truth,
an attempt,
A Lie.

The things I've left unsaid
                            For fear of seeing them wrong
Litter my memory

Incomplete songs
Poems
and hidden fears
not far behind

Once un-winded, they are still
as encrypted as before
Even to me
half formed

So, instead of half truths,
I shall tell half words
I love you
Perhaps
Not always
One day

One day perhaps I will try to tell
But, before then, I'll be human
and tell Half Words

Leaving my trust in things
Louder than sound.

I join you on the road of dread,
and slip my kid gloved hand
within your calloused own,
looking silently back at
the graves our roots were
sown on.
Just remember, we still stand
strong, the compost
heap became our home,
and now it's time to leave
Occasionally grieving it's
putrid absence.

Tarnished by it's
nostalgic scent.

Filled.

Why so quiet?
Screamed the girl
Why not take my head for a whirl?
Rip it off and count the rings,
then fill my face with
pretty things.

So quiet
I'm quiet
Why quiet?
Who'd buy it?

Swap action figures
for barbies *****.
Why the **** is
****** rude?  
Rip out my lungs
fill them with lead.
Attempt to preach to
me who's dead.

Taboo Taboo
The human stew.
And a graveyard landscape
filled the one she drew.
The face they grew was
filled with lies, when
they asked her what
she'd placed inside.

Bide bide bide
your time
Wait wait wait
for crime.
Unmarried tainted bride,
now God's dolls are out
to play,
save the number 666
Lock it deep away.
Pray.

You're crazy now
So lazy now,
You work yourself
to death.
Fill yourself with inadequacy
until your last life's lying breath.

Bereft Bereft
and filled with dirt,
your empathy is as pure
as Kurdt's.
You're so inert.
Don't act so hurt,
assert yourself and
'Pray'.

That your mood for
speech will wash
itself away
in holiest water
Soak your skin
of a sinner's
daughter.

Try to forget what
they've taught her.

Soak Soak
away til
wrinkles fill your
lust strewn eyes,
try not to act
like you're surprised.

Only God's can cure a fate,
which lies within you,
purely innate.

Do you have any idea what I go through?
You don't, and I
know you don't, because I never tell you.

Ever wondered why?

I have what seems like a million stacks
of paper pressing on my chest, and
all the ****** memorised facts
are fighting in my head, compressed, I
feel a bit dead. What this person said, what
that person said, my eyes aren't green
anymore, they're red,
and yellow,
and pink,
a highlighters tint tattooed into
my neural net, yet I don't feel
confident enough to bet it won't
wash off.
Yet each morning I still
brush off my shroud of too
little sleep, because I can't fall asleep
when I'm alone and when I'm sad I
moan to shadowy paving stones, as I
walk a march to the station to
and fro, and I secretly wonder, "does
it even matter where I go?", and every day
I'm just that little bit more slow, still keep
counting chances in my head, but when I
dance my heart can still
hear the lead I left at the
side, which resides with me
now.
I fall asleep on textbooks and
I wonder how this
became the focal point of
my existence, every now and
then it meets my resistance but
every time I squash it down, I wish
I dreamed of the crown of
innocence that once brushed upon
my head, but now I feel I'm guilty
instead, because every smile
is a second wasted. Instead I
dream of
paper,
and death,
and funerals.
And I watch as the
ones I love are lost, I
can't remember the
last time one of my dreams
was soft.
I can't remember.
This sacrifice isn't small, I haven't
actually listed much of my fall, but the
tallest order of all isn't even the
grades I must get if I can
finally submit to the
fact that I might be
worth it.
I'm leaving the first person I
have ever romantically loved
to do so, and just the idea
bruises my bones,
because, at the same time
as being miserable, mad, and
sad,
he has helped me be the most
happy, no more, filled, complete,
as I have ever been.
I have thrown my soul at
his feet, and he has
kissed it.
And if I leave him, I will miss
it, a part of me I finally found, will
resound like a long forgotten
tune, my new found flower
unknowing where to bloom.
He has not made it easy, I have
watched him torture, hate, and cry
to himself, I have watched him
wish himself past help.

I will always have her, nothing
can ever take her, she
is me.

But he,
he makes me fear the breeze.

I love you too, but if you think you
see a brick wall then you obviously
haven't looked to see how tall
it is,
I've run out of bricks.
All that are left are sticks,
feel free to scratch in an "You
owe me" but, you see, my perceived
"cracks" have triumphed, I'm
sorry to be the bearer of true news.
I'm sorry I can't sit up with you,
I have in the past.
I'm sorry I can't right now panic for you,
I have in the past.
I'm sorry I can't listen right now,
but I have,
multiple times in the past.

So leave a message after the
tone, and I'll get back to you
when you want a wall to moan at.

Maybe I'll chuck you a brick?

(p.s sorry if this was too "emotionless")

My cage has neither bars,
nor locks
my cage is without metal.
My cage is unlike all the others,
in which humanity meddle.

My cage has feet and
hands and
skins.
It's layer stretched
tense taught.
And when this caged bird
tries to sing, it's cries
will come to naught.

I walk within it every day
it runs,
it aches,
it pains.
And when it's sweet release is found;
it's crying,
masked by rain.

Cords of hair coil from my head,
chaining me like rope.
***'s,
eyes and
teeth...
I beg the sea to bring me hope:

Hope for life,
hope for death,
hope for a future
and past.
hope for me and
whoever 'you' are...
hope for it to last.

I hide within my cage of skin,
yet wish for unknown freedom.
I long to reach out, skin to
sin
and stroke and probe and be wrong.

To be brave enough to make
mistakes,
To shake off all my fear whilst
laughing!
So **** the spiders, death and pain,
I plan to go out dancing.

Dancing with the joy of
life,
the joy of dancing without
nothing.
So what if I don't make a
wife?
At least I'll still have dancing.

And when the ivy climbs this cage,
when rust will halt my movement...
I will not make a shield
from age,
death...I cannot soothe him.

So I shall dance,
love,
be free,
whilst freedom is my choice.
I shall laugh,
sin,
be good,
and dare...I shall dare to be
moist.

My cage has neither bars,
nor locks,
my cage is without metal.
This cage so unique and alike
to all...
My cage that is my body.

Paper kites fly with colours of a dye
dipped in ribbons
Hypocrites die
An eye for a eye
yet ******* keep on living

And the sky was cloaked
in glorious intentions
and the world was soaked
in the liars hosts

We're just vessels
We're vessels

And the sky was cloaked
in glorious intention
And the evening wrapped us
in it's own directions

We're just vessels
We are vessels
Of a soul

The sky takes it all
And the evening wrapped
us in it's own glorious
intentions

All that I wanted is past,
and all that I hated will last.

I wanted.

During the day it was a ballet dancer,
light and free in the wind,
the sun puffing out her skirts
as she becomes one with the grass
and the tree's,
scraping her knee's with the weak care
of youth.

I wish that this was the whole truth.

At night it was a different story,
one which reeks of gory
skeletons in the closet.
A strangled safe with no deposit
key,
if I opened it,
would anyone listen to me?

I wanted to run downstairs and make them stop,
I wanted to throw a metaphorical rock
and lock the fighting away.
I wanted to stand in the door and sway
with the force with which I yelled "shut up".
Loud enough to make them see the **** up,
which their memories no longer admit,
but which mine allows to stick and sit to
the inside of my skull, the heavy thump
of their words, never to dull.

I wanted to make them hear what they couldn't see,
what they were going to make me turn out
to be.
See the weights which they were making me bear,
the chains which they were forcing me to wear
shackled to the bed on which I'd lie,
and sob, and wish the nightmare to die,
along with the monsters under my bed.
Which were slowly creeping into my head.
So I'd lay there and stare, at the sins of the grins
which they forced me to wear
in the daytime,
which is only a hairsbreadth away
from the stark truth of night.
My teddies knew more than the average of frights.

I wished them to be happy again,
but when they were happy, I have no idea
when.
I have no idea, if they were truly happy then.

It appears to be a myth of my construction,
a foreshadowing of my destruction.
A tale which doesn't include remote controls
thrown across rooms,
doesn't allude to bedrooms strewn with
the memories of a once happy tomb,
once glittering baubles of laughter
cast aside, shattered and scattered
with the cruel hate of ignorance.

Left for young hands to sew back together
with lack of skill made up by care,
their fingers tenderly caressing the tear which
they would soon learn to label their own self
harm,
in a bid to create a calm in the eye of the
storm.

The wound, well worn, was warm with constant reopening.
The little girl left to pray for hope again.

She ignored the strength the beast possessed,
she couldn't care less, she decided,
and so gently chided it to sit back down for tea
and tell her, once again her favourite bed time story.
It's yelling was dulled down by her own voice
humming within her ears,
of the song which was theirs,
and the grooves in the chairs where
she'd sit on his lap.
She learnt to ignore the harsh slap
of her mum down the hall.

The little girl curls up in a ball, a
peaceful smile on her face; full
of love, forgiveness and grace.
Inside her a war rages on, it's steady
beat masked by the song she still hums
and drums into her head.
The little girl lays down in bed.

At least in a while she may sleep,
her memories may fade, but they're
ones she must keep.