On the moon, there dances an orphan

Whose parents are bound for the Sun

And the gravity caresses her gently

As she feels her mind come undone

And alone, in the attic, a tiger

Paces upon floorboards of stone

His ears listen for an old pop song

A lament about hunting alone

In her basement, she buried a Bible

It died with a gasp and a sigh

She thought about spreading its ashes

But at the funeral she couldn't cry

While outside acid tears fall like raindrops

Filling jewel cases and bins full of song

But their poetry slashes like razors

And their hollow words shatter her tongue

Now her taste buds are twitching and dancing

Crying out for new flavors to dream

She feels like a map without borders

In her lungs grow the seeds of a scream

She's a princess in search of her kingdom

On a tired horse without any eyes

She is lost in a forest of concrete

And her compass keeps telling her lies

She could scream for seventeen hours

And still not release all her rage

Inside she is seething and molten

A volcano who has reached middle age

An eruption is all that she asks for

A release from the pressure and pain

To spew forth all her ash and her fire

To return to her dormant refrain

But she just sits there eyeing her coffee

Still in prison, a chemical slave

And her breath feels a little bit shallower

While her heart's digging out its own grave.

- artwork by Leontine Greenberg -

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