I am the girl,
the girl with the curly brown hair,
with straightened bangs,
bangs that have grown too long—
long enough to hide my eyes from the world
(but never long enough to hide the world from my eyes).
I know what goes on,
and in that I am naïve.
I have the heart of an infant,
beating as fast as a baby’s.
I have the mouth of a weathered sailor
and my tongue, a flaming brand;
but I cooled it, soaked it in ice before pointing it at you,
because I don’t want to hurt you,
because I care too damned much.
But my mind,
my mind is my own.
I’ve never had a clear head.
I feel things that I can’t explain, and thoughts,
thoughts bubble to the surface,
only to fizzle out once they hit the light,
so I keep my mind in the dark.