they are all ur best friends
though they never have a clue
of whats happening inside you
of all the demons chasing ur soul
they want to laugh and joke and booze and play
and roll in the grass
their world is a nursery world
of lullabies and honour and decencies
ur nurseries were painted with blood
ur nightlight burnt with incest
the very flowers that scent ur soul ... are deseert blooms of bitter fruits
poison ivy ... pretty, sweet and deadly
the breast that suckled you bled poison into ur veins
they cradle they rocked you on, the world you grew up in
the walls the gradens, the skies where you ran free and wild
a dessert, a sea, and lonely forests
they say they are your friends - near and dear
but how can you tell them
and how can you show them
what you know
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