The Interview

July 8, 2010
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They send me pain for breakfast
Maybe they don't know my identity
Maybe they don't understand how I function
Maybe they think I like the pain
Maybe they know who I am and want to torture me
Or maybe the wind is picking up
And the sky is ready for a storm
As Lennon lyrics spin in my head
On that wheel he watches turn around and around
I cradle myself and close my eyes
I rock myself to and fro
They and the others stroll in and out of my room
I stare in wonder, curiosity, and hope
Sometmies they change faces, but I still see most of them
I think I may enjoy them
They're rpetty entertaining once they look at me
Well, there's one of them that seems to like my room
I think It may see me because It keeps looking at me whenever It visits
I'm not sure if I see It either
Since It's the most intriguing, I visit It whenever I feel free to do so
In fact, I think I may visit It more than It visits me
Yes, that's not the first time that's happened
Whatever the matter, we named ourselves siblings
So, I'm for sure stuck with it
Anyone who comes in my room often isn't very worthy
But I put on a smile and continue to wait
They are curious creatures and we are odd
Anyway, I tried out for the musical, "The Young and Wise"
I made call-backs, but their decision isnt' made yet
For lunch, they usually send me scraps of indecency
I don't mind the taste
It seems that me and It get fed the same meals
Dinner varies from platters of love to bowls of lonliness
Mostly, I eat what I am given unless I'm thirsty





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