Once upon a time a girl wore a dark dress printed with red roses and it fit her quite well
But a boy tore it off her when she was under his spell
She felt her heart break when he kissed her up against the wall
When she realized it wasn't her dress but his arms that made her feel so small

When I was young and I did not sleep, my mother told me to count sheep one by one
Needless to say it didn't work
I still stayed up night after night terrified of what lurked in the dark on the streets
Even back then I knew of the monsters who were human: kidnappers, rapists, burglars

And as I got older, the doctors handed me pills
They told me: it'll make you tired, they'll help with your depression, it's for ADHD, ohh and don't forget your mood stabilizer, that'll make you better!
Yet, I spend night after endless night awake until early hours into the morning
I am no longer afraid of the kidnappers and rapists or burglars
I'm simply afraid of the demons that haunt the darkest spaces inside my mind

And so, I do not sleep
And I will not dream tonight

He traced his fingers along my body
With a curled smile
That was filled with lust
And
With eager eyes
That were filled with acceptance and amazement

To think
That someone finds beauty in
What I hate about myself

And

To know
That someone is attracted to not only
The body
But the mind

You carried me for many months and thus became my world
My hands are shaped like yours because I am your little girl
I could've let you go if you had said that's what you wish
But every word I heard you speak was opposite of this
I saw the life you thought you lost and held it close for you
Believe me when I say that's what I knew I had to do
I look at you the same today as I did even then
Before I ever breathed the air of everywhere you'd been
And there are times when all I need to do is go inside
To let the warmth of who you are wash over like a tide
The closer that I come to you the less I feel alone
I guess it's true what people say - some people feel like home

I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible--
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.

the old composers -- Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.

finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
**** on them.

now I work for the editors the readers the
critics

but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.