You're so often misunderstood
They don't listen, nor do they care
It makes you sad, it makes you mad
It makes you wanna pull your hair
I hide, cowering in utter silence and darkness, save the sound of my heart breaking and the red glow from the tip of my home-rolled cigarette, thinking that my demons can't possibly find me if I'm still, but I am wrong. They seek me out with instincts as sharp and brutal as that of a famished wolf, always lurking nearby, waiting for me to make one wrong move, and then they pounce…and I soon discover that while trying to remain unseen by my demons, I am simultaneously disguising myself against my muse. Fleeting thoughts tease my creativity, but my pen isn't quick enough to oblige her.
Forty four years of keeping my composure (even when I wanted to scream!) , and always looking out for the other guy's feelings has left my heart bloody-wet and vulnerable; I am a tangled bunch of hysterical, raw nerves…I teeter-totter on the very brink of insanity, clinging hopelessly to hope, still tasting the sweet honeysuckle and salty tears of the one man I ever loved…he who called me Darkling…
Laying here alone and lonely
My eyes are closed but I'm not sleeping
A cold wind blows through lace curtains
Out in the moonlight heartache's creeping
I glance at the calendar
With anticipatory glee
I notice that its Tuesday,
The day you said you'd be with me
I was born a stain on my mother’s heart, a constant and unwanted reminder of a man she despised, ironically, at the end of ‘the summer of love”, and, in stark contrast to my ensuing life, under the sign of Libra, which is ruled by Venus, the Roman goddess of love, on September 29th 1967.
I have lived an unimaginable life full of horror, abuse a ...