Who won't tell me his name
He rains down fire over my bed
'Til I scream in agony
He only comes out to play
When I can't sleep
And he uses my innards for his games
And the Clock ticks
Though I rant and rage
He just laughs
"Silly girl," he says
"Silly girl. The world belongs to the Others
Those reckless and hot
The careless and the fun
The world is theirs."
I stare up at him, my eyes beginning to bleed
And I ask, "Then how am I a part of it?"
He thinks for a moment, digging a claw into my stomach
Then answers,
"You are not. You are of a different world,
One with dreams and devotion
One with love and leisure
Where the rivers flow clear and free
And the winds races across green meadows."
"Then how do I belong?" I cry.
"You don't." he says, grinning.
"You will be above and below everyone else,
Like oil attempting to mix with water
Impossible."
I try to understand
Try to think of a way
When he interrupts, the Cheshire Cat of my room
"Why is it you think you were born?"
I laugh "Well I didn't really have a choice in the matter."
He laughs back, stealing my breath
"Then you shan't have a choice in where you belong."
And with that he disappears
A memory of a ghost of a dream
And the Clock ticks