Yes I Try To Kill Myself In

It Is June. I Am Tired Of Being Brave.

Everyone In Me Is A Bird I Am Beating All My Wings

Though Rain Curses The Window Let The Poem Be Made.

Rejoice With The Day Lily For It Is Born For A Day To Live By The Mailbox And Glorify The Roadside

All I Wanted Was A Little Piece Of Life, To Be Married, To Have Children.... I Was Trying My Damnedest To Lead A Conventional Life, For That Was How I Was Brought Up, And It Was What My Husband Wanted Of Me. But One Can't Build Little White Picket Fences To Keep The Nightmares Out.