Wishing
Here she is...
The child who writes her words backwards
Upside down and left
A mirrored image, mind you
In a world far away
But so close-
Isn't everything?
And the man in the corner
With his haggard, shadowed face
Sleeping in the corner near his daughter
Asleep and drunk
As she draws in pink crayon awake
She looks up from the pretty yellow hat
She had imagined upon her head
Her purple dress around her
And the butterflies fly around her mother
With pretty golden hair
No longer buried in the cemetery
And her father sings old tunes
Like he used to
Everything is smiling
At the sad and lonesome little girl in the mirror
She picks up a blue crayon
And draws the worries away
Lions and tigers and bears
Are nothing more than the characters on her canopy bed
Smiling up at her as she reads the stories
She dreams that she could read
Mirror, mirror, show us all
She recalls
Something, somewhere singing those words from a fairytale
And she repeats them there, over again
For that is all she knows of them and
The story they come from
If they come from any
The giant grumbles from the corner
And swiftly the little girl runs to her room
With her red cloak and glass slipper
Rats at her feet and biting
The wolf with eyes red
Fangs
He follows
But he stumbles, and falls
And she locks the door behind her, running to her closet still
She wished her father would wake
He has been asleep for so long
That wasn't him out there
Being terrifying
She watches herself in the darkness, in her mirror
And she imagines her imaginary world around her
That had 'once upon a time' been reality
But some witch must have came
And took her family away
And killed the little girl's prince, still a child and innocent
She tears her heart away, and looks down at her crumpled paper
And handles a gray crayon in her shaking, scared palm
And she draws the world around her, plainly
Solemnly
And rationalizes:
What she sees in the mirror is what she wishes
But doesn't have
And what she has- is her nightmare
Then, with any wishing on a lonesome star, she could hope
For the images reverse, when her catalyst
Her drawing
Could only just touch the world and change it
Inverse it
And make her reality the world in the mirror
She holds it up and studies it
The gray man in the corner
Then one in the world who held his daughter and laughed
The grave and the picket
Then the mother tending her garden, flowers that didn't mark death
There would never be roses in her garden- never again
And then the little gray girl
Sad and crying in a closet
Then to the little girl with her face
Her eyes
Her flesh
Wrapped in a purple dress and ribbons
Hidden by a yellow hat
The little girl slumped down
Closing her eyes
And hoping for a better day
She wished, didn't she?
Why would her world change?
There was nothing wrong with...
Wishing...
The child who writes her words backwards
Upside down and left
A mirrored image, mind you
In a world far away
But so close-
Isn't everything?
And the man in the corner
With his haggard, shadowed face
Sleeping in the corner near his daughter
Asleep and drunk
As she draws in pink crayon awake
She looks up from the pretty yellow hat
She had imagined upon her head
Her purple dress around her
And the butterflies fly around her mother
With pretty golden hair
No longer buried in the cemetery
And her father sings old tunes
Like he used to
Everything is smiling
At the sad and lonesome little girl in the mirror
She picks up a blue crayon
And draws the worries away
Lions and tigers and bears
Are nothing more than the characters on her canopy bed
Smiling up at her as she reads the stories
She dreams that she could read
Mirror, mirror, show us all
She recalls
Something, somewhere singing those words from a fairytale
And she repeats them there, over again
For that is all she knows of them and
The story they come from
If they come from any
The giant grumbles from the corner
And swiftly the little girl runs to her room
With her red cloak and glass slipper
Rats at her feet and biting
The wolf with eyes red
Fangs
He follows
But he stumbles, and falls
And she locks the door behind her, running to her closet still
She wished her father would wake
He has been asleep for so long
That wasn't him out there
Being terrifying
She watches herself in the darkness, in her mirror
And she imagines her imaginary world around her
That had 'once upon a time' been reality
But some witch must have came
And took her family away
And killed the little girl's prince, still a child and innocent
She tears her heart away, and looks down at her crumpled paper
And handles a gray crayon in her shaking, scared palm
And she draws the world around her, plainly
Solemnly
And rationalizes:
What she sees in the mirror is what she wishes
But doesn't have
And what she has- is her nightmare
Then, with any wishing on a lonesome star, she could hope
For the images reverse, when her catalyst
Her drawing
Could only just touch the world and change it
Inverse it
And make her reality the world in the mirror
She holds it up and studies it
The gray man in the corner
Then one in the world who held his daughter and laughed
The grave and the picket
Then the mother tending her garden, flowers that didn't mark death
There would never be roses in her garden- never again
And then the little gray girl
Sad and crying in a closet
Then to the little girl with her face
Her eyes
Her flesh
Wrapped in a purple dress and ribbons
Hidden by a yellow hat
The little girl slumped down
Closing her eyes
And hoping for a better day
She wished, didn't she?
Why would her world change?
There was nothing wrong with...
Wishing...