She wrote all those things, every little word they said, upon her arms. she's just cryin into the the darkness, is this who I really am? Do these words define me? If I'm hanging upside down, dizzy and dying, can I still find me? Are these bruises and scars so permanent? Do they make me ugly or are they my identity?
I hide behind the tears rolling down my cheeks, they look like the rain from life's down pour. Does anybody know the difference? I struggle with my head hung low, the weight of everybody next door on my shoulders. I'm stuck, my feet sinking into the hungry earth, no blood has fallen here for many a year.
Doesn't anybody see me? Won't somebody stop and come rescue me? I beat myself up, color myself pink and black and blue, watch my blood fall, trickle down my arms and finger tips like the morning dew. Clear and lifeless, breathless and hopeless. If I cut a little deeper, can I make the change? Will you keep me, oh say I can stay?
I give of my body and soul, I write poems for you, sing into the night, sleep at your feet if you ask, accomplish any task. Does it make me yours? Or just one of your projects, one of those chores? I try to imagine a better place, dream of your tender kisses washing across my face. But the tears I cry, you capture them, put them in a vase, remind of the sorrows, the pain, red hot, in the middle of the lace. A bleeding flower, queen Anne's lace. A weed in your garden. A broken, shameful disgrace.
You tell me I'm perfect, lie to me some more. If I tell you my heart, will you believe me and love me, and end this war? You come to me with your problems, so eager to please, so joyed you wish to share, but instead it's just another snare. A trap for my heart, I can't continue anymore. won't you let me go? I promise forever, I live in the wake of your wrath, poverty, shattered. Don't you think I matter?
I try to be stronger, tell myself to hang on, it will be over, just wait a little longer. But your tongue, like a dagger, it strikes me with ferocity, I crumble and stumble, you just laugh and watch. Am I the ballerina on the shelf? Take me down to play, then put me back up there and away. I can't dance unless you wind me up, and bring me to life. my creativity rotting, my smile dead and gone. My heart tattered from all of this strife. If I changed these things, would I be what pleased? Would you erase these words, written on my arms, pressed into my sleeves? They are deeper now, they're written on my heart.
I'm grey and cold, I've got nothing left, nothing bold. And yet I see it on the horizon. The sky, somewhere, far away, up so high. It's beautiful. I am stunned. You never let me see it before, it looks like...the sun. I must have it, another day in your sphere, darkness, nothing to guide, no light to steer. Escape I must. I stand, here is the gate, I leave forever, in death, in life, even in hate, I am now choosing. I am the master of my fate.