I don't think you even see
The way I see

I know you see the guys who hang around
You don't see them as I do: Flies around decay
I am the broken blocks and toys strewn across the floor
They are the children who throw the pieces at each other

I know you can't see the twitching, broken fingers
The starving eyes and crazed mind of the addict
Somehow you don't see the way I limp away
Trying to escape the craving for my fix

You contradict constantly
You cannot see the weak, willess side of me
Until another man is mentioned
Then suddenly I am craven and hungry
Unable to resist my urges

What am I, babe?
Am I strong or weak?
Decide!
And stop changing your mind
Either trust me
Or don't! And let me be.
What do you want to see in me?

------------------------------------------------------> I felt his perfect, plastic hands
               |                                                              As they touched my bleeding lips,
               |                                                                                           My broken arms
               |                                                                                    My blood-eagled ribs
               |                                                                                  He put me in the chest
               |                                                                               Buried me six feet under
               |                                                                        And never dug me up again
               |      Each pair of hands has its own set of Barbies or Kens
               |                               Just to play with every day
               |----------------------------------------------------------------­---
I found this room once                                                             |
In my secret home of dreams                                                  |
The room looked like my childhood                                       |
Just like it                                                                                   |
And these dolls                                                                          |
They lined the walls                                                                  |
Ken dolls                                                                                    |
Dozens upon dozens                                                                 |
Of my pretty little Ken dolls                                                     |
My dears                                                                                    |
Beautiful, each one                                                                    |
Blondes, brunettes, even one or two redheads                         |
Some brand new                                                                       |
And some showed little signs of wear                                      |
Little signs of having been loved by me                                 |
Tiny marks of minor hurt                                                        |
Some with little scratches on their arms                                 |
One with wing-shaped claw marks on his back                    |
Many with bleeding lips                                                          |
In the middle of the room                                                        |
There was a dirt hole in the floor                                            |
A chest,                                                                                     |
And a pile of broken dolls                                                       |
Oh, these were once my lovelies too                                      |
Four little beautiful Ken dolls                                                 |
Bleeding lips, open chests, and broken arms                        |
One by one                                                                              |
I placed them, gently as I could                                              |
In their tiny coffin                                                                    |
And buried them deep in the senseless earth                         |
Beneath my feet                                                                       |
Standing, wiping dirt from my hands                                  |
Hoping I could never have cause                                           |
To dig them up again                                                              |
But I glanced around the room                                          &nbsp

Don't scream
Or cry
Don't rage
Don't be angry
Leave no place for hate
Because no matter who you are
Where you've been
Or what you've done
To try an assuage the pounding
Bleeding aches of heart and soul
We all have ghosts that haunt us in the night.

I was warm in my illusion
Gentle in my aching
A layer of clay kept the words at bay
A cover of glass across my eyes
Now the wind blows all my warmth away
And my hair leaves stripes of blood on my face
As it whips and tears at the clay-made skin
That I wake up every day
To wash and to put back in place

I didn't know, I wasn't ready
And though it would still be
Many months or years away
I can't put myself on this path
When I know I'm not sure
That I'm walking the whole way there
I'm too young, too cold
Too timid and too bold
Too sick with the need to fly

I can't go with you just yet
I'm not ready to place this bet
I can't settle down when I just came around
And I'm still just trying to be me
I haven't figured it out just yet
And while I'm so glad that we met
Please don't cry because I need to be free
I'm not ready to say "marry me"

It always seems to go like this

I swear
I swear up and down to God above
Never again let the walls come down
Never again succumb
Never again to trust
Never more

I watch
I watch helpless as a single man
A man who swears to love me
A man who says I am forgiven
A man who wants to heal me
A real man

A single man
A single man who touched the walls
The walls, they shivered
The walls, they crumbled
The walls, they tumbled down
The walls came down again

A paradise
A paradise of calm and peace
Faith in man
Faith in love
Faith in the future
Faith to be

Just words
Just words that ******* me
Not meaning to hurt
Not meaning to scar
Not meaning to break the trust, but...
Not kind either

The walls
There go the walls
Up again, around me
Up again, surrounding
Up again, between us
Those empty walls

I watch
I watch helplessly
You didn't mean to hurt me
But you hurt me nonetheless
Oops, there go the walls
Up and Down
To God above
There goes the walls again
Back up, inside my empty walls again

The first time I sat down and wrote
I was just a little girl
Eleven... Twelve?
What a terrible thing to happen to a child
I read Bridge to Terabithia and wept bitterly
I just couldn't understand why anyone had to die
So I tried to turn it around
Have a story rewrite itself into perfection
But I quickly discovered the ending
That endings are the healing after heartbreak
And without the pain
There is no satisfaction in the ******
No release after the buildup
No rest after release
And it just made me notice
But that's not what I want to talk about just now
That's not the kind of mood I'm in
No, I'm in the kind of thrall that's only present
When you've already lost it all but almost no one knows
When you thought you knew how
And you thought that you could do this
But no one's sure you did it right
And no one really cares anyway
When I'd rather rave and rail
Thrash against the pain
And scream against the chains I know I wear
But cannot see them with my eyes
And who do I believe out there
All they say
The mysterious, murderous, undefined "they"
They say that good is evil, and evil good
And sin is art and art is something you can judge and **** and curse
And no two sides will take my side
Because there is no spectrum
Just a line you cross or do not cross
But I think I must exist somewhere
Lost between the infinitely small sides of the invisible line
And the middle ground is me
But there is no middle ground
Just a little girl who thought
That she could write her misery
Out of existence when she burned the pages
The pages of the Bridge on which she died