Anger flashes hot across your face.
I've pulled the invisible trigger to your wrath.
It's in a new place every time. I'll
tiptoe,
hold my breath, and cross my fingers,
feeling out your ever shifting moods.
You can live inside your head and allow yourself to be ruled
by your passing passion,
irritation not being the same as sensitivity.
But you will never understand who the victim is.
I know there is no more I can do.
You scream for me to
JUMP
an impossible feat. And I try, I've tried,
but you always move the bar.
I am exhausted.
Nothing, nothing left at all in me. I dream to escape one day,
rehearsing in my dreams how life will be different,
how
I
will choose. It's close,
so brace yourself.
Your circus girl will be gone.
