Trailing blood,
Ruby red,
Anger dark.
Leaves purple bruises on blood and bone arms.
Hate, pain, anger-fresh,
Leaves welts and cuts on my back.
* Willow boughs, springy new,
Lash down on slender-thin legs.*
Cries of pain make you glad,
So I must hold my screams in.
* Hush-hush small-tiny one!
We shall protect you from naughty-ick man!*
You go away,
Bloody willow whip in hand,
Bouncing jauntily as it feeds off my blood.
A crash is heard from your room,
And I run to look.
* Bad ick-scary man!
Gone now.
Hush-hush little-small one,
No more purple blood-bruises again.*
You lie at an impossible angle,
Sprawled on the bed,
With your face eaten out.
I fear my friends have gone too far this time.
Despite the hate and rage I feel for you,
I fall to my knees and cry.
* No! No sad-unhappy tears for ick-man!
Pain and suffering all he caused.
No more crying little-tiny-small loved-happy one!*
They are right.
No more fears,
No more tears.
Only freedom, happy and good.
* Yes, yes, little-dearhearted-one!
Good-good freedom,
Good hope-love life now,
Here with the pixies!*

Andrea Salt
Nov, 17, 2002
( Happy Birthday to me!)