I am just a little creature
made of bone as black as blood
I sit inside the sunshine's shadow
my flesh a rotten heap of mud
I pick apart the thoughts of others,
the thoughts of friends,
the thoughts of mothers,
I weave them in a little quilt
of screaming pain in brilliant colors
I am just little ghost
my words are weak,
my mind is lost
I pitter-patter through the hall,
my stocking feet are fat and dull
you'll see me here, though I hide well
crawling through my little hell
and if you smile, then I won't see
I'm busy with destroying me