Sticks and stones
may break my bones,
but you'll never
see me quiver,
when I wither.

Into the forest,
Red Ridinghood
sing your chorus,
the "Bad Wolf", allured,
becomes your victim secured.

Goosey, goosey, gander,
tied me to an anchor,
thrown down your stairs,
someone hear my prayers,
to survive the refiner's fire.

Old Mother Hubbard
throw me your bone,
no more of the unknown,
look at what we have sown,
dark and deary tones.

At the Mulberry bush
we'll go round and round,
hand in hand we're bound,
inflicting unsealing wounds,
we never belonged together.