Little Pink Notes

Slow, sad,  
a melancholy  
played on the whites
mourned on the sharps
 
I put my childhood
on the tips of uncallused fingers
that once reached for a music box
of painted horses and twinkling notes
a little girl humming wordless tunes
four-lined verses and wood hairbrushes
through her royal curls
 
and what was she the princess of?
 
A bedroom kingdom
teddy bear knights and barbie handmaids
flights of stairs met with adoring stares
waving to imaginary crowds down
haunted halls of old war portraits
books scented of times long past
 
I threw tantrums when my mother
held me..
 
why...?
 
A spoiled princess
a mean princess
a bad, ungrateful girl
 
Oh..
Why was I raised to hate her?
 
I abandoned her  
and left her heart on the driveway
when I ran away from home
 
I broke the piece of her  
that yearned for her daughter's love
years with me torn  
from her needing arms
dreaming to feel my hair
in her aching hands-
 
Fuck
 
I'm thinking again, I'm thinking
I'm breaking again, a monster
a bitch, a diseased piece of shit
stop thinking-
 
S T O P
 
My fingers  
~pause~
on the scales
 
My own daughter
blurs my vision
and I see the dream shattered
by blood and pink matter I had  
no name for
 
Scarlett..?
 
I cannot stop  
and the sorrow shifts
anger on deep, resonating velvet keys
to please the raging tides threatening
the emerging tears on my face-
this spoiled fucking princess
stupid little Pandora
opening the box that uncovered
the truth-
 
A product of rape
a shameful thing in need of saving
by a god who only watched on
popcorn in his holy microwave
smiling down on my uncle's need
to please the pedophile ache
between his legs
 
My fingers are bleeding again
 
The bench is knocked on white carpet
and the keyboard is mocking my pain
 
Again
 
I...
 
I'm lost