They always ask: “What do you want?”
Over and over,
My hand slipping through their fingers,
“What do you want?”
My head is pressed against a locked door,
Looking through the peephole,
At the ever-changing world.

Finally, I can say it,
“I want what you can’t give me”,
I thought that it would change,
I always tell myself their love is enough,
Their love can make me forget,
And all my prayers, all my tears,
All my pleading, will turn it all around,

My mother said to live as if,
You never did exist,
They all say,
To never speak your name,
To make myself forget,
And all will be well.

So talented am I,
With my hands and my lips,
To create and communicate,
And ease the pain of those around me,
I can give, give, give,
I can convince everyone,
But myself.

Wishing one can be free,
Doesn’t make it so,
No amount of hypnotists,
Prescriptions or therapy,
Can make the grass green again.