When all is said and done lay your head down let the cool water sweep over your eyes
When all is said and done give up on the fight roaring waves go rolling on the sea of night
You may be frigid you may be frightened but its alright Written for Carry on Tuesday
There's a rumble in my tummy
crummy times have fallen upon me
we wish there'd be more in our home
gnomes in the garden eat more
horrible times are here
we're searching for anything good
would you spare us some change
strange that we used to be friends
lend us anything please
cheese? bread? or sardines?
The others think I'm frightful. They fear for their lives. "There's something wrong in her eyes," I hear them whisper to one another. I'm not half as dangerous as they imagine. Really, I'm as harmless as a little bee. Maybe I'll sting a little if I over exert my emotions, but in the end, it is I who bears the brunt of any outburst of sentiment.
They say I am a loner. To this I concede. It'd give me so much pleasure if everyone would just leave me alone. I like to be by myself. My mother was that way. She had her own place in the house and when she got into her mood, she'd go there and none of the children were to perturb her. They won't let it be these days, so rather than be at my home with my little Henrietta I am here, forced to take up company.
It's such a shame. To separate a mother from her baby. They say it's for her own good, but who knows whats best for ones child better than the mother of that child. I know it may have seemed strange that tears flowed freely from my eyes since they brought her to my arms, but that just shows my love! How can a mother not grieve over the birth of their child. Pitiful thing. Born into such a dark, dark world. I almost wished I hadn't birthed her. Not because I don't love her, but because death is such a more noble achievement in this dark age.
I remember when they told me they were taking me away. They said I had become a threat to myself and to Henrietta. They said I could hurt myself and that I wasn't looking after the babe. Lies! All of it- lies! They don't know my heart, they don't understand my pain. I suppose no one can.
When wind spins her ice cold fingers through my hair I remember that I'm really not alone
And even though my pulsing heart has cooled, it hasn't yet turned into bitter stone
Dear Sun, will you rise again tomorrow? I promise you, tomorrow I'll be good
If only I could feel your rays of sunshine, then I'd know all will be again as it should