The things I said
With no thought...

Lips bright red, eyes painted
Every inch prepared...

Deep under the earth
Through a burrowed door...

\"this poem is a continuation of one i wrote...
The pain I felt never left...

I sit here stitching up the tatters of my soul
Try to repair this ripped and shredded heart...

Mind like a rabbit hole.
Up is down, down is up...

There is always a pretty girl
At every school...

There is a cave on a far off shore
Which gapes out across an unknown sea...

It strikes whenever I see her
As she looks into your eyes...

I open my eyes
to the morning...

She's sent to go hunting so far from her home
On her arrivel she is greeted with suspicion...

Fickle and unpredictable is the child of Spring
Quick to cruelty, quick to kindness, she can both...