when i was a little boy,
i would cry myself to sleep,

and sometimes in the woods,
alice would hold me,
and we would make promises,
and swear them to the sky

and everything would be okay,
until i returned

through the trees,
along the pathway,
and back to my

home
or, the robin's egg blue

and the blood,
my body is soon covered,
in bruises and scars,

mother tells me it will end soon,
and i nod,
and lie

and mother tells me i need it,
i deserve it, as she holds me
over the fire

and father stares in disgust,
and he balls his fists and
he gets out
the knife

and tomorrow they all say,
how lovely and
what a nice house

and mother feeds me lies,
which i learn to tell

the secrets of our family remain disclosed
as alice holds me,
and i cry