Universal fit,
For a special kind of girl,
In a "one size fits all" world.
Can she make it?

She sees things that others don't.
She can tell when you're angry,
Or when you haven't slept.
Sleep is for the weak.

She wakes up tired and sore every morning,
From crying and fighting daemons in her sleep.
Why can't you reach out, into her high-strung mind,
"Help me." Is what she's dying to tell you.

Talk to her for five minutes,
You'll peel back another layer.
Step inside my mind,
But please do not turn your back.

Am I playing on the right head?
How do I sound?
If I keep playing,
Will I keep going?


"Help me," she cries out silently.