she sat in the corner and asks

                                                   g                            WHY am I always digging at the bottom of this red box
r                                              n         ­                                                                 ­        '   w'''
  e                                         i                                                            ­                          '''e  '                           '
   a                                  h                                                            ­                         '          e   ''       '
     c                            c                              ­                                             '        '          p''   '          '                 '
       h                     a                                                            ­                    '          '              i '                      '
          i               e                                                            ­            '          '  '           '         n    '      '
            n        r                         ­                                                 '       '           '         '            g        '
                g                        ­                                                                 ­                                               '        '        ­       '

                                                              ­                                              Begging for understanding while the claws of misleading whispers are speaking sweet nothings, pretty as raw sugar. Which is the sweetener and which is the bitter black?
                                                                ­                         YELLING
out of frustration                                                    ­   YELLING                                                     out of patience
out of disappointment                                              YEL­LING                                                          out­ of ideas

      but take me by the hand                   drape me across my bed post
      use the other to pick me up  GOD   tell me to stop crying and
                                                     come home

Forgive me
I know sorry c doesn't always
                        u
                        t
                        it

  ­                                                  WHY is it when I run to stains on the carpet You find me with even more force than the last. I never thought You were .........
                                                       ­                                          such a clean freak

                                                          ­                            I hope You know
                                                            ­                          that I keep pushing
                                                         ­                             You into last weeks trash
                    but the trash has a certain aroma
                                  [[[Corinthians 2:14]]]

sometimes Your Fabreeze winds are the only thing that
let me smile
                                                                ­     I can't thank You enough for

                                                            ­        r
                                                       ­               e
                                                ­                         a
                                                               ­             c
                                                  ­                              h
                                 ­                                                  i
                                                               ­                      n      
                                                                ­                         g
                                                               ­                                out
                                                             ­                                  letting me hear the train whistle
                                                         ­                                      imagine the cloth cubicles  
                                                      ­                                         even while I
                                                                ­                               blatantly ignore it
                                                              ­                                 and keep walking
                                                                ­                               this long road

                                                           ­                                      on my own


Stop handing me ~tickets~
I'm scared one day I'll take one
and board