your nuance
(every word)
i feel it
tearing open
my half-healed scars
(every time)
they dress themselves
in glue and stone
and shred my love
to pieces--
my ripped up paper heart--
i have become
a second
class citizen,
lacking solidly in love.
it's time for a shower.
no one cares...
i know
when i finally sing
i will sing loud
up there on stage
and i will play
and put myself together
and
they will hear me
they will feel me
at last.
all those sorry pieces
i took apart
in kindergarten
might actually mean something...
once again.
they rip apart my sacred heart.
No comments:
Post a Comment