Haunted
Beyond the veil of sleep
Where my control wanes
Voices that I’ve never really heard
Echo down to me.
There are spectres in my house
Haunting the halls.
Phantoms in the mirror
But they’re just reflecting me.
From dreams they follow me
In the daylight, I’m the ghost.
Silence screams.
I don’t exist.
I was not born to be a mother. I didn’t grow up dreaming of being a princess in a castle and marrying a prince. I didn’t spend a lot of time cradling babydolls, and I didn’t play house all that often. I had Barbies for awhile, but they were oversexed weirdos. In fact, by the time I was about ten years old, my make believe games often had aspects that were distinctly weird. When my cousin and I would hang out, we’d pretend we were a bickering old vagrant couple and we’d speak continuously in cockney English accents (it used to really flip my mother out). Continue reading
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