Miss Mare she entered my mind.
Then she locked the door.
And she blocked me out.
She was not the least bit kind.
Miss Mare she feeds on my long lasting guilt.
Feeds on my dripping sadness.
She relish in raising my heartbeat.
And aims to drive knife through to hilt.
Miss Mare she refused to speak to me.
Then she laughed in my face.
Pointed finger to my head.
And though I begged she did not let me be.
Miss Mare went straight in there – made a mess.
Then moved things around.
And threw things out.
She tore me apart – but cared less.
Miss Mare she plundered me long and with glee.
She went in there with force.
She went in there with power.
And brought me down to my knee.
Miss Mare she rides on my sense of shame.
She rides on my wave of panic.
And then she relentlessly tells me up front,
that I am The One, one to blame.
Miss Mare she made Me the laughing stock.
Then made me the party clown.
She ground me down to nothing, and less.
Until my Own Mind was a block.
Miss Mare lastly left me – shape bad.
Finally went on her way.
Leaving me broken and tired and scared.
Not energy even feel mad.
I rested, I wept, and I lingered and slept.
And I wept, and I slept and I lingered.
Real scared of another visit… but…
…that thought, in Me, sparked a protest.
Right there – that mind block was broken.
I actually found my Own Key.
Gone the lock on my mind. Away!
That spark of protest was my token.
I went into Mind, followed trail of the banshee.
Went in there and sat down and watched.
What first seemed like ruins, was treasures
my precious emotions set free.
Though shattered all over, and scattered,
All there, all accounted for – mine.
Dawning – a sliver of hope – glimpse of light,
my Mind Room is a little less tattered.
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