Halfway to the post office
On the main road, I
Noticed I was barefoot -
You can take the girl
Out of the farm
But you can't take the farm
That's mine
I got it for my birthday.

From all my houses
One is most forgettable
The natural defense mechanism
Of my toiled mind
Doing its job perhaps
A tad too well so that
I completely forgot my
Safe haven, located
Under the house which
Jutted out, so ugly, from the
Mountain side, so that
A small triangle, filled
With Ivy,  was my home
In the period
Of my life that is
That house, but with
The good memories
Of golden sunshine through
Lush green leaves falling upon
Discarded sandals and
A familiar English classic
Come the lonely hours -
The occasional hidden
Poison Ivy among its
Friendly peers hurting
Much less than
The sting of unwantedness.

My voice used to seem
Too grown up when I sang
I'd look in the mirror
See the lips move
And still not believe it was me.
I'd look in the mirror
And see my body
So different than it looks
In my imagination
I wouldn't believe
It was me.
The girl in my head
Never seemed to be
The girl you saw
Daily, this dissonance
Left me grasping
For who I really was
The one I see
Or the one you do.

I've long since matured enough
So that my voice
Fits my throat and my
Body fits my brain's image
But still the habit
Of spewing random
Information about myself
Remained to remind
Both you and me
Who I really am.

You mix all the ingredients together
And then you knead
And the more you knead the
Easier it becomes and
The better the bread.

But sometimes I miss the
Hard work that is
The beginning when we
Would both work so hard
To impress, when our
Conversations were witty
And sarcastic if
Somewhat forced, when
The dough was still
Stiff beneath our fingers
And so the product
Felt even more satisfying
Than now when the kneading
Is supposedly easy
So that you don't pay as much
Attention to it.

Although I love
The taste of bread
I kinda like
Stealing the dough.

The Psychologist entered
Our sixth house for the
Second time with a smile
On his lips and the memory
Of a five year old me
In his heart.

He has known me forever
Since I was four and seems
Surprised every time at how
Big I've grown, I always feel
He still sees me as if
I am five.

The Psychologist looked at
My sitting form and said I
Look like I'm missing some
One, thing, he wasn't sure
And I was surprised he noticed
I had changed.

No one else noticed I had
Been unable to keep my
Knees from me chest all day
That I hugged every pillow
I could lay my hands on but
The Psychologist.

I think it was at that moment
That he realized I really had
Grown up from what he knew
And I realized this childhood
Figure really is
A Psychologist.

I am a double agent
As I cannot see which side
Is the enemy, I feel
Treacherous, know that
I am betraying, not one
But both parts of me
The individual, who
For the first time in
Six month wants to be
Alone, and the collective  
Which I have longed
To be with so much that
I cannot turn my back
On it, so I must
Betray both, in turn,
So as to keep both
Moderately  happy
I wonder how long
Till I get caught
In my own web.