• My emotions are a ball of re-wrapped yarn,
    imperfect, knotted, confusing to unravel.
    I lay here, I wonder, how did I get to this?
    What happened to that happy little playful girl?
    Where did she go?
    Where did her smile slip off to?

    I think, Oh yeah, right, I remember now.
    The little girl grew up, alone, abused,
    deserted, mistreated.
    Friendless, made fun of,
    accused of nothingness.

    That little girl, grew up without a clue
    how much it would all affect her in the end.
    That little girl, got put into shoes she didn't want to wear,
    got forced into situations she couldn't handle.
    That little girl is going crazy in her own skin,
    dying to slice it all off, out, just for her own bitter happiness.
    Dying to dig herself out of her own hatred and pain.
    That little girl only had one friend, one friend that was taken away from her.
    She was battered with words,
    bloodied with pain and heart break.

    That little girl is almost a dream,
    a ghostlike figure of the past,
    something that seems almost impossible to believe in now.