Arm up, leg down
Move me anyway as you take hold.
Because you were the one who spun
My strings made of gold.

The thought occurs everyday
To regain my own control.
But I fight the urge to cut loose
Because beautiful are my strings of gold

It does not matter if you are made of stone
I do not care if your heart is cold.
You can always make me dance
As long as my strings are gold.

Of course.

                                                  You could love me.
I can make.
The world seem.
Like a dream.
                                                  In bed.
I will tell you stories.
                                                 You might drown.
In the lovely words in your head.
Place your faith.
In my hands.
I will show you.
Distant lands.
                                                I will lie.
with you.
Keep you safe.
With me.  
Just put your.
Hands in mine.
                                                Do not.
Ever leave.
And Darling.
                                               Trust me.
I will tell you.

                                               The true story.

Goodbye again.
I really need to go.

You will not miss me.
I will feel a knife in my heart.

I am leaving once again.
You say something amazing.

Once again I am pulled back to you.
Like a bird is eventually pulled back to earth.
Does that make you my world?
Or just my hell?

I'm walking barefoot on nails
Across the earth for you
Because you hold my heart
And my shoes

Ashen hair encircles her head,
And a face that could do with a wash.
Yet above the chipped teeth and the grimy brown hands,
Sits, throned, a crown of gold.

A waltzing skirt, trimmed with ribbons of dust,
A bruise of an amethyst hue,
She mutters the stories to ***** grey walls,
The girl with a crown of gold.

The peasants awake, splitting heads, withered throats,
From their bedbugs and blankets and beer.
The princess stands firm, she will not be moved
From her crack-mirrored bathroom seat.

The peasants are worse than usual this morn,
But you have to expect that from them.
The mirror reflects, in its own shattered way
The torn, crushed crown of gold.

There once was a prince, in this faery land.
A baby too brave for his good,
A trip away, up the silent back stairs.
                             -
They can't batter his new crown of gold.

The streets try to drag her back into the world,
But she only sees carpets of red.
In a fairytale land where no evil is seen,
Sometimes paper's more precious than gold.

A B C D F...what defines us?
Stupid letters staring at me screen, I never knew a letter could scare me.
Why am I so strung out?
The little letter gives me anxiety
migraines, back aches, sleep deprivation.

A is for Acceptable
B is for Barely okay
C is for Cannot believe how stupid you are!
D is for don't bother coming home
F is for Failed out of this life.

I can do it.
I can do it.
I can do it.
Can I do it?
Can I do it?
Can I do it?
I cannot do it.
I cannot do it.
I cannot do it.

Tell me one more time why it is worth it?
College? Intellectual? Brilliant?
Can I still have that without the perfect little letter?

One more night writing this paper.
One more Algebra problem.
One more History report.

My will is breaking.
I stay up day and night crying.
I forgot how to relax.

Thank you to my little letters
for forever defining who I am.