Given the circumstances I believe I should feel... Scared? Angry? Grudging or remorseful? But I do not feel any of this. Given the circumstances I am supposed to be banging on the door begging to come back, though I gave up on that long ago, much too long to remember when. I know what I feel. It is something hard for me to explain, a feeling half crossed with innocence and a mixture of wonder and knowing... Like if you found out something you really knew all along because that voice in the back of your head kept on whispering.
I wonder what they are doing now as I rest my head on the ground. Probably the same thing I am; almost sleeping. Do they ever think about me? I wouldn't give a fiddlestick if Deb did, for I know she doesn't. But my daddy does. He loves me more than life itself. He told me he would leave Deb when he got back from war, he just wanted me to stay someplace nice while he was gone.
Nice, Huh? I wonder how I got here?, what did I do again? Tell me please! It's dark here and wet and murky and cold all of the time. A small moldy-green old window is my only light. Nothing works and it smells like the toilet. I hate this place. Oh, Daddy? please come home to get me? It's locked! I cry... sometimes I do that if I think hard about something sad, a memory. There is hardly anything I remember anymore than shreds of conversation and events which surround me head almost surrealy and bother other thoughts in my head. I want to remember, I really do, I try everyday to piece together my life.
I remember there were lights. It is for sure. Blinking ones that filled a room, making the whole time seem more dramatic and strange. It was when daddy went away. The day Deb wasn't afraid to act her true self all the time. And I cant remember much else, I mean, thats what is there at my grasp now. What I can think of when I am dozing. So for now my world dims to nothing and I fall asleep.
I have been feeling differently lately, and I can't figure out why. It is simply that it seems different. Like trying to explain the taste of
I wonder what they are doing now as I rest my head on the ground. Probably the same thing I am; almost sleeping. Do they ever think about me? I wouldn't give a fiddlestick if Deb did, for I know she doesn't. But my daddy does. He loves me more than life itself. He told me he would leave Deb when he got back from war, he just wanted me to stay someplace nice while he was gone.
Nice, Huh? I wonder how I got here?, what did I do again? Tell me please! It's dark here and wet and murky and cold all of the time. A small moldy-green old window is my only light. Nothing works and it smells like the toilet. I hate this place. Oh, Daddy? please come home to get me? It's locked! I cry... sometimes I do that if I think hard about something sad, a memory. There is hardly anything I remember anymore than shreds of conversation and events which surround me head almost surrealy and bother other thoughts in my head. I want to remember, I really do, I try everyday to piece together my life.
I remember there were lights. It is for sure. Blinking ones that filled a room, making the whole time seem more dramatic and strange. It was when daddy went away. The day Deb wasn't afraid to act her true self all the time. And I cant remember much else, I mean, thats what is there at my grasp now. What I can think of when I am dozing. So for now my world dims to nothing and I fall asleep.
I have been feeling differently lately, and I can't figure out why. It is simply that it seems different. Like trying to explain the taste of
