the carousel goes round and round, a lovely place to play. wthat picture-perfect innocence to fit this autumm day. but no one tells the children that the spinning never slows, that we´re all tied to our horses; locked in at our toes.
no one tells of desperate moments, dizzy and insane, this blissful show of ignorance no longer just a game.
blinded by the pastel paint and chariots of gold, the slanted truth of childhood is all that they´ve been told.
leave your brain at the door my dear. from here on, we are all heart and soul.
take off your shoes, watch your step, dont touch anything too fragile.
I am brittle and easy to break: be careful.
that way, when you leave, you can leave without a trace.
that way when youre gone, I wont be haunted by your mud tracks and fingertips.
I cant handle another mess to clean up.
In a world of covered ears and mouths taped shut, this is my cry for help.
is the sound of my fingertips brushing the keybord loud enough?
can you hear me?
I´ve begun to censor your name like a curse word.
in my phone your number is under
"the one wo broke me".
using your name would offer you pity and sympathy and understanding.
using your name would make you human when you have only ever been a heartless nightmare to me.