Oh the quiet child awaits the day when she can break free
The mold that clings like desperation
Oh mother don't you see I've got To live my life the way I feel is right for me,
Say it's not right for you But it's right for me


I always wished I could be a Russian Doll. A red one. With a big pair of bright blue eyes and painted on eyelashes and pink rosy cheeks. Really rosy. And my mouth would be painted on red like a bow. I'd have a flower on my chest - a rose - and two small little hands by my side. And then I could be un wrapped, two, three, four times until I was small. Really small