I try to get in her head
Tell her she's ok
There were so many doubts...
Hair, waiste, skin, feet, eye, voice
All of it. None of it.
Her mother was no where
She was there, but not
Where she was needed.
She needed someone herself,
So it's easy to forgive...
Forgetting is too, when you're genuine.

Boys made her feel better.
Special, loved, noticed. Man,
I'm sad for her now.
Knowing what I know now,
Poor child.
The break down of the tribe.
No women to guide this young
Woman. Alone, most days. Quite
Naturally, unless anxiety set in.
Or I just really like you.

So I struggle to write about
Me.
Seems she couldn't be
If those days weren't seen.
I embrace what I've witnessed.
There's a message back there
I missed it . I trust her. She's guiding me
With intention.

So let's see...

Wicked dreams.
Thoughts of screaming.
Being killed in my sleep. Throat ripped
Open. Bleed in my dreams.
Being chased, watched, schemed.
Perhaps there's something here

Fear
How firm is it's grasp
Fear to be me...

I was scared to go home most days.
Hated summer vacation after a few weeks.
Longed for Mondays.
To be back in a place
I felt safe. School.
How insane. But true.

I'd look round the corner,
Hoping the lot was empty of red,
Maybe even he was dead.
He never died. He lied. They did.
So disrespectfully.
And to a kid?
Could have just kept some things
Private... Anyways,

It's the way it was.
I remember the Simpsons
More than feeling love.
Mom always seemed distant.
As I am now.
Best advice ! Go out and get it out!
Come back clean and focused
And ready to heal
The next.
They are here now watching,
Preparing poems of the future.
Alright let's get it all out...