| prayers filled with the words of horror filled with the hopes of life the secret is locked up and hidden in the poem book ive built who's to read my stores? who's to say they count? what makes you feel you're responsible? when you know it was always your guilt writing like there is no end to fill my life with words as all that is what i can describe the secrets of this little girl the best story i have is the one i cannot say its the one that i wish i could find but the conclusion is on this day now its too late to write it maybe you can finish my verse i leave the pen beside my bed just look inside my purse... there it is... my life there it is... the key, open the book look inside there's me every day i wrote every day i plea now i have my chance to rest the words inside me it is my only love it is what makes me free never could you compare to what my imagination could create there... over there... around there... in there... for in my poems is the fear that answered the little child's prayers. poem index |