She's tip-toe-ing
across my skies.
In her pixie dust
delight.

With her teeny-tiny
dancers feet.

She's frolicking,
and picking,
all the brightest stars
right out of my sky.

She's whispering her
"i'mso sorry"'s
and i can hear her
barely audible,
girlish giggles.

She's dancing round and round
my open hearted skies
not-so-gracefully.
Crushing and tipping over
my little dipper.

She never did take
those ballet classes
when she was eight.

She stood awestruck
outside the window like
the poor child.
she was.

Well now,
i can never dance either.

She's ripping out my stars
taking away the dreams.

Because i was the one
with the demon.father.
Who ripped the stars from her sky,
by birth.

But i'd scream my
"i'mso sorry"'s
at the top of my lungs
across our galaxies

to make her understand.
i'd scream until my lungs
turned to stone.
She says,
"It's not right to hate your mother."
But I'm not living behind my eyes anymore.

For my Real life pixie.

with her pretty straight hair
tied in braids
down her back
gracing her thighs.

And her tiny waist
accented by form fitting
glittering tunics.

All i ever wanted
was a tiny bit of pixie dust.
All i ever wanted
was to fly


All i ever needed
was her acceptance
All i ever needed
was alittle support.

And in spellbound honesty
and wide eyed responses,

She Begs
"Why do you hate me?"
I want to rip off her wings
and sugarcoat them
to feed them to my fish.
I just wanted to shake her
of all her dust
So i could fly away.

I want to scream
my apologies until i turn
blue in the face for her.

But she can't see
in my blue-suffocating-angel-face


She dances right by,
with glazed eyes.

my Real life pixie.
she can't see
I'm not living behind my eyes anymore