Which death is less painful, tell me mommy-
choking or thirst?
You hold me in your arms,
my hair leaves traces in your palms,
you press me closer,
afraid for my mood to change.
I ask you to heal my inner child
but you don’t, because I’m mute.
So just don’t tell me it’s dark outside
and we need to rest our beautiful minds,
for the next day I will close the gates again,
let out only my vanity
until you forget my humanity;
until I’m safe in my own head,
alone but safe,
maybe a little more than in your arms.