I stare out the window
Not sure why I haven’t slept
In three days
I keep going over different scenarios in my head
Does this window open , how high up am I
Is there a mattress there to catch my fall or is that just a wish that I know won’t come true
Then I start to regret living on the second floor
It’s harder to escape .
I stare out my window hoping my fairy godmother will appear
Then I can fly off into my never land and live with the rest of the lost black girls.
Maybe they stare out there windows to hoping they find some sort of escape to.