Who went and made me judge
Sat me in the jury
Gave this need for the hanging tree
At the risk of perjury

When did I miss the point
In the pointing of these fingers
In this self-righteous path I am led
As the judgemental jury lingers

Judge, jury, hangman all in one
Guilt before innocence
This trail of errors is only won
By adding my head to the list

trauma is not
a beautiful thing
i'm not a bird
with broken wings
not a sick puppy
for you to save
not a white daisy
growing over a grave
i'm rotten inside
down to my core
grabbing handfuls
of guts and gore
pushing it back
under my skin
so you will not see
the condition i'm in

When we go out
I wear cheap vanilla perfume and a push-up bra
We sit in the back of your car
And I let you put your tongue in my mouth, your fingers,
your hands around my throat
I know you think there’s a natural order to these things
But you won’t say it to me out loud
You just get on top of me and pin me down
And I wonder why my sick little mind likes it.

When I was little
I needed my dad to lower my chair with his weight.
When I alone pulled the lever
My chair would go higher and higher
When I wanted to go down
So my dad would sit and pull and
Take me down with a grin.

Trees keep falling down.
We saw, cut, drag them away.
More fuel for the fire.