She, a girl of youth, who smiles and laughs along with others. Who gives advice to the young and old, but lectures of love is not her forte.

“I’ve never experienced the kind of love you seek…”

She would reply, if you so do ask why, if you look with care you will see-the extended sadness in her dull riten eyes. But most overlook her, and the wisdom she gives-for her weakness was of years, and the so wrighten label of bad rep to those not through half of the life we breath.

She, a racing mind, would stand or pace around and around-talking to the only pair of ears who cared to listen. She, though just a youth in the mad world we and she call home-words would spill out as she wondered about-perhaps she’d caused a few floods over the hours of chatting to sprites who she found oh so intriguing.

“My mind is a clock-ticking and tocking-and every hour a ring would occur, but, oh so sad to say-no one wants to hear my ring, therefore I smile even bigger at the reach of an hour. Because, the ticking and tock and the ringing are for my ears only-and at every hour I see scampering and skipping of those who didn’t want to hear my ring!”

She, with closed lips, and quiet eyes. See the love she can’t have, perhaps later she’ll feel her hand being held or the niceness of another's embrace. She can speak of the saints and sinners of the world for eons and eons, even if it was only her to hear-but the elements of love draw a blank to the works of a racing mind-such as her’s. A mind so complexing-being bless of extended comprehension-could be cursed to the depths of the lonely.

She, is strong? She, is broken? Or shattered? What is she? She is the misery of her family. She’s built up the strength to see the harmful truth of her family, and yet she’s too broken to turn the truth as anything but a lie. Why, a mother-could be so selfish? To just not stop with the self-medication ways? The mother she promised she’d be...is far long dead in a pile of medicine bottles. She says she loves you-but her action don’t, more of a “You’re just too much…” She should have left us-we would have been happier.

I, the puppet of my father’s way? Do you see strings on me? Well-you can think that...but utune my words oh, mother dearest! That lest his words are the truth, while your’s are just lies to get your way! Why must I suffer in your hell, mother? Why must you chain me down? Just let me go, I don’t love you anymore...you’ll never change your horrid ways-not for me, your son or your own life.