I tap-dance on egg-shells in my ballet shoes.
They whisper across the floor.
Omitting noise that might entice a temper.
I find a hide-a-way in a hole.
My heart, soul, and pen are
controlling the inner-chaos
with a key that empowers me.
I tap-dance on egg-shells in my ballet shoes.
They whisper across the floor.
Omitting noise that might entice a temper.
I find a hide-a-way in a hole.
My heart, soul, and pen are
controlling the inner-chaos
with a key that empowers me.
My dying spirit
Spirals out of control
Working my bloody
Body to the bone
You ask too much too bare
I resent you for lying in despair
Balance does not exist
Only terror on the edge
A vicious wrath begins
As my rage causes lapses
Of memory and judgement
Pieces of boundaries
Lay on the floor
My apologies and amends begin
Until again