I am no stranger to other worlds,
I travel them day after day.
Adventure and fanciful stories unfurl,
And always they are as I say.

My head harbors mountains and skies that aren’t blue,
And armies of fairies and elves,
And people and places too good to be true,
And things that I don’t dare to tell.

The world that I live in has beauty indeed,
But anger and sadness abound,
And stories of youth have planted the seed,
For my own precious world to be found.

I have often considered letting go of that place,
To get my head out of the clouds,
It is true I’m no child, and I’m not fair of face,
Just one silly girl in a crowd.

But the more I forget, the more I create,
And the more I become someone more,
And the world that I live in is seeing a change,
From the person I have been before.

There are drums in the distant gray sky,
And they drum to the beat of the wind,
And my heart follows closely in time,
To the sound bringing chills to my skin.

And the hooves of the deer echo back,
As they’re racing across the long field,
With the lightning the sky seems to crack,
From the bolt that great Jupiter wields.

And the storm brings destruction in rain,
And the oak trees bend down to the floor,
And the ones who do not bow in pain,
Are the ones who are surely no more.

Goodnight to the child who seems wide awake.
Rock-a-bye baby who’s lost in the waves.
Sleep tight to the girl who can feel the ground shake.
Listen well to the song you will take to your graves.

Let the half-moon embrace you in silvery light,
While invisible winds dry your tears.
Let your souls shine in heaven and brighten the night,
And the stars melt away all your fears.

Farewell, little ones, now we bid you adieu,
‘Till we meet on the road to the sky,
And the wings we have damaged are finally made new.
But for now we must tell you goodbye.

I wrote a poem when I died...
Another at my birth.
A brand-new sonnet when I cried.
And again when there was mirth.

A song for my confession...
A story for my pain...
A painting for depression...
And nursery rhymes for rain.

My creations live inside my heart.
I keep them there in shame.
Yet you looked around and saw my art,
And smiled all the same.