She is switching, I can’t stop her,
Scratching deep inside my head.
She is twitching, Now I’ve lost her,
Has she died or gone to bed?
She is singing, I’m ecstatic,
To the world I will be wed.
She is screaming, my sleeves fell,
I sold my wounds and we lay dead.
By Eleanor Brooks
– See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Eleanor_Brooks