Memories of the small girl I could still be
Sharing visions that stilled me
Where’s my mind? Open and wide
Where is my mind? I can’t decide
I review my sense of youth on a dead end
Quiet old street, orange leaves under feet
Guiding me through street lamps I can hear you
Give anything to be near you
What is this light? Blinding and white
What is this light I have inside?
And still I’m rattled by the news of a dead end
Boring old town, I miss when you were around
Clarity is wasted on the loved ones
The “came to me from above” ones
What is this hole I have inside?
What is this hole? I can’t decide
So I cut my arm in two with the blunt end
Rusty old knife, and a river of strife
Born of fire warm and irritated
Though the heart is belated
Where is the guide I left behind?
Who’s is this eye I’ve been assigned?
Vanishing I leave my shoes on the dead end
Wild at my core, running on all fours