How can I show what memories are real
The ones that hurt to hide and feel
To seek what’s there or nothing true
The times I hid from what I knew

I know I’m not well no cold or flu
My mind I know is sometimes blue
To know what’s there I see inside
The time I visited the house of fright

The games I played were they lies
I count the stairs to reach no light
My hands held out so small to big
Step by step not knowing to give

There  in the kitchen no food to cook
Your there again to take what took
To talk not knowing the unkind I blocked
Body in past to present of shock