I never asked to be ordinary.
I never asked to be the girl next door.
I was the eccentric little girl that wore dresses
like they were an armor
and the attire for a coronation.


I was also the girl who sit in her mothers shirt
and said that I wanted to go back.
Crawl back to lay in her womb
because the world hurt too much.


I must have been heaven and hell for my parents.
Smart, empathic and creative. A gaze that could look right through the surface.
In a way that frightened my mother.
Angry, lonely and anxious, explosive. Secretive.
In a way that frightened us all.



Don't tell them. It's a secret.



I'm the kind of girl that rather marry a drug kingpin
then ever spend an hour with the boy next door.
Ordinary is suffocating.
Most people as dead inside.
I seem to be the only one feeling
my skin shaved off, scraped
against the walls of this glassbox



Let me out.



And it is excruciating to watch as I plumet deeper into myself.
Into the cool, shiny black oil at the bottom.


Some nights I sit down there and play with a lighter.
Click. Click. Click.
The golden metallic surface of it shines in the darkness.



Click. Click. Click.



There is nothing to heal from.
I am not broken. Just... unusual.

I'm a piece of Monét.
A beautiful color-explosion from afar.
But ones you come closer,



Come closer my friend,



you'll see the scars and wishy-washy strokes
without balance or order.


Inside are two cages. Side by side.
One is lit by a pastel light
with blurry edges and a slowly moving swing.
Made out of cut cotton sheets.



The little girl, you see her now, don't you?



She looks back at you over her shoulder.
Wondering when she has been punished enough.


When someone will come and read her bedtime stories
Stroke her hair, tug her closer and shush her softly.



Ssschh...



Let her rest from the world.
Just let her breathe.
For a little while.


She turns away from you
and the swing moves slowly again.
She's mumbling a song to herself.


To shut out the clinking noise to her right.
The manic laughter drowns out the little girls lyrics
And you can't help but look,



It's okay, you can look...



The cage to the right in pitch dark.
Shuffeling of something moving.
Edges sharp, bars a blank pewter.
Suddenly she slams the bars and a sweet mocking smile appears
Meant to pull you in.


She cocks her head to the side and moans impatiently
Making the big shiny lock rattle on it's chains
Cooing you to let her out.



"Play with me..."



She whines, drawing a risp
over an exposed breast.
Slowly licking the blood of the side of her long nail.


She climbs the bars and hangs swinging from the ceiling by bare hands.
"Let me wrec, ruin, break, run havoc. Intoxicate you. I want to play, play, play."
She sing-songs in an inauthentic voice.


She is the teenager that wants to live the nights
Drink, fuck, fill her lungs with the smell
of smoke, love, destruction and bodily fluids.

She is indestructible, pointless and alive in every fiber of her being.
She only responds to displays of power
Dominance, violence, filth, boldness, playfulness
Once you open the door you can not put her back.



You can not put her back.



You flicker your gaze over to the little girl.
She's still swinging slowly with her back to you.
Singing and twirling a lock of her long curly hair
around a nervous finger.

She seems hungry, shiver as if cold.
Smudges of grey and brown on her naked feet.
Dirty in her white, frilly dress.

She is fragile, innocent, soiled.
She can not leave without you carrying the world on your shoulders
Don't let it crush her.


Don't let it crush her.



She turns around on her swing
Holding fingertips up.
She looks begging at you
then back to her hand
And the tips reddened by the risp on her chest.



Did you hear that?
Those vicious little remorseful streaks
One beat, two beats, three beats.
Bloody, pumping, barely holding the girls together, it leaks.



You can not want one
and not be filled with the vision of the other

You can not have one
and not care for the other
Or they will both draw back into their cages



Click. Click. Click.



Unwillingly, freely, painfully
Irreversibily

They share a heart