My darling

You are tired, its physical it the age.

Go see a shrink or take a pill,

or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll,

you need to sleep.

Make yourself better, buy a hat or a pet,

take up dancing to forget.

Forget?

Forget what?

Forget whatever was done to you that day of the lawn party.

When you came inside the house, flushed with the sun,

in your new dress with the ribbon and the ice cream smear,

and said to yourself in the bathroom mirror "I am not the favorite child"

My darling, when it comes right down to it,

and your dreams trouble you, and you are trapped beneath a

burnig car, What does it really matter?

(written by a special Friend, Put on site by Salem)