Drama, mama, attention seeker.
Look at me, look at me.
Skeletons tucked in dark closets,
but don't see, don't see,
lips pursed in pious indignation
spitting out bile,
tipped with sharp poisoned barbs,
fear ridden, terror stricken.
Will they know? Will they see?

Deep dark recesses, cancerous pores,
point the fingers, point the fingers.
There look! But not at me, not at me.
Golden child chased through the night,
words nipping and tearing, with sharp edged teeth,
struggling, falling, brought to knees.
See her, feel her, hear her pleas.

Bright eyes piercing,
staring in righteous wrath,
as drama, mama, attention seeker.
Eye slitted and sly with joyous glee,
fingers pointed, shrieks,
“look at the golden one.
Watch her fall, watch her burn,
but don't see me, don't see me.”

Tuck skeletons back into her closet,
small child crying helplessly.
Drama, mama, attention seeker.
Grasping fingers pointed, reaching out,
whispers in the dark,
come to me...
come to me...
come to me...

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