you my daughter.
It's about loosing things,
and looking and looking and not finding
and getting frustrated,
then fearful when you scold me.
It's about covering up for my memory,
Pretending to be tough and fine and in control.
It's about groping for words and names and ideas
and songs I used to know
and not grasping any, hating the world.
It's about waking up in darkness, scared
not finding the door for the rest of the night.
Nightmares in the night
Hallucinations in the day
It's about arguments we have.
Arguments we'll have;
if you refuse my reality.
It's about losing friends and family and sleep.
It's about being in a cell so tight where no voice,
And no amount of wishing can get me out.
It's about drugs and nausea and bowel issues.
It's about being alone and wondering
why I'm so cold,
or so hot,
or so hungry.
It's about loud whispers behind my back.
I hold my tongue.
Within me my spirit fights.
I restrain it
I'll be happy today.