The girl and the woman
Sat quietly together,
Content and at peace,
For one had the other.
It has always been this way,
Kept secret from all,
Save a select few.
She lived in her head
(The woman who sat)
Protecting the child who lay in her bed
(From the demons who spat)
Yet she was not real;
Not flesh and blood and meat
But a voice kept soft and distant and sweet
Which lead her through life and made her complete.
Perhaps she was crazy
Gone mad through the years;
This girl who carried the weight
Of too many tears.
This girl whose back was bent
From the heaviness of a life
Which had left her broken and spent
In the face of parental strife.
In the face of blood and glass and screams,
Of demons in pills and smoke that gleamed
A smile so twisted on the face of her mother,
Who’d kill her if it meant one more hit of another
Sweet chemical or drink that would make her feel
As though her life choices had never been ill.
Choices like her father,
Who was loving and kind;
Save for the women he would sneak behind,
Or the powder he’d grasp and run
So the woman stayed safe tucked away in her head,
A voice of reason and calm among all her dread
That told her to love and relax and forgive
Saving her soul and letting her live
A life untouched by a third parties sin.