What if I told you I was dead inside?
That when I fall asleep, I feel the need to hide.
Hide from all the shadows that lurk around my bed.
Shield myself from voices swirling in my head.

What if I told you my life was stolen?
Had only I been miscarried while her belly was swollen.
I was never child. I had never had the chance.
But I keep telling myself, "All you can do is dance."

What if I told you I used to stay locked inside a room?
To avoid what's called a family as their presence would loom.
To hide in the bathroom after dinner almost every night.
Because every meal, offered a fight.

What if I told you the bathroom floor is my home?
The only safe place. Better off alone.
Hot water and porcelain friends.
It's the only place my pain ends.

What if I told you of blood soaked wings?
You wouldn't understand any of these things.
Maybe I'm crazy. I guess it's okay.
I never had hope you could stay.