Intro

I make you a promise,
That I will make it real,
And that when it is done,
And it never will be done....

When I'm producing work
Worthy of you, and of myself,
I will finally accept
Your love and approval.

Prelude

Running.
I was running.
Running your errand.
Running with scissors.
Didn't mean it.
Points piercing your palm,
Sharper than a serpent's tooth.
I'm not ungrateful.
I didn't mean it.
Running scared.

No words.
Mouth open, but no words,
Just the dreadful gasping for air.
Fear choking my throat.
I didn't mean it.
I hear the words in my head.
They can't break out through the fear.
Sorry.
I'm so sorry.
Sorry, Mummy.
Hiding.
Smaller.
(I'm small).
Make myself smaller.
(I'm four).
Hide myself.
She'll find me.
She always does.
I didn't mean it.

Solo

Hiding in full sight,
Swinging here,
Safe in the garden.
Singing to myself.

Practising
Not being seen,
Not being in the way.
Avoiding the fighting.

Words

I remember the words
I hated to hear,
Year upon year,
Never fading,
Hurting me,
When I vowed not to let them.
Words spoken before their meaning
Was clear

School

Why can't you be more like your sister?
(Because I'm not her.)
Her work is always neat.
She brings it in on time.
(She doesn't have to try.)
Why can't you be?
(Because I'm ME.)

Dont you understand?
She's the clever one,
The one who will go to university,
Be the high flyer,
The one with brains.

I'm just me,
Useless,
Living in her shadow.
I can't match up.
I don't try anymore.
I dread reports,
Parents' nights
At the same school,
With the same teachers
Who teach her,
Who expect more of the same,
Then get me.

Why can't you be
More like your sister?
I don't want to be!
I want you to love me
For being me.

Aria

I sit playing the piano,
Not for me,
But yes, for me, too,
Always for me.

Playing the melody
For you to learn.
You can't read the music,
But you can sing it better
Than anyone I know.

Is this the secret behind the
Saturday theory classes I hated,
While my friends were at the movies,
And I battled with pizzicato and sostenuto?

The sounds of my childhood,
Locked in vinyl time capsules.
Celeste Aida,Vesti la Giubba.
Your voice rattled the chandeliers
In our local catholic church
When you were lifting the choir,
Or drowning it.
Your natural gift
Blessed all of us.

Girl in a Suitcase

I lie here, working out
What I should pack
Into the suitcase under the bed.
Thinking about
How quickly I could get away,
If it all became too much,
Escape imperative.

Only the things I really need,
Or can't live without.
Will the Panda fit in?
It has a zip around the top.
It's small.
It can't hold everything.

What do I have of value, anyway?
I can't take the piano.
I don't have any photos.
My guitar has its own case.
Not much to show for my life,
Too many memories,
Not enough clothes.