Criss cross
Applesauce
Spiders running down your back
I climbed out my window
and jumped
I acquired a few bruises
but not from the fall
His breath reeked of stale beer
The first time I had no where to turn
The outcome of abuse and soft kisses
a mean look in your eyes
pumpkin pie
I hope you survive
quite whispers of melodies
your mother used to sing
salt water tastes like childhood
Cool breeze
Tight squeeze
Now I've got the shiveries