• There was a little girl
    Who had a little curl
    Right in the middle of her forehead.
    Sometimes that little girl,
    Who was secluded from the world,
    Closed her eyes tight and wished that she were dead.

    Then you came and turned her away
    From the life she knew, you turned her world around.
    Showed her all she had missed those years
    Curl girl disappeared, and her life was upside down.

    Because you said,
    “World, turn over!
    World, turn under!
    Life is a metaphor of dew and thunder.
    I promise you
    I will come through,
    For you,
    If nothing else.”

    The girl became a teen
    Not by age but by obscene
    Manners that drove her out of her head.
    She tried to be glad,
    But really she was sad,
    She missed her old life much worse than she said.

    But you had came and turned her away,
    You made her “light” view “pitch black.”
    She wanted to escape but there was just no way.
    Her life was gone, and she couldn’t go back.

    Because you said,
    “World, turn under!
    World, turn over!
    Can’t spend your life looking for a four-leaf clover.
    I promise you,
    I will be true
    To you,
    And no one else.”

    The dawn broke.
    The sun woke,
    Shining light on all
    those skeletons
    you kept locked up in chains.
    The girl left
    As bereft
    As a cat out when
    The new moon
    night falls and it rains.

    She cussed.

    And then she sang,
    “World, turn here and
    World turn there, ‘cause
    I don’t buy effin frilly underwear!
    I promise you,
    I’m going, too.
    From you,
    ‘Cause you’re a mess.”

    And she’s right, I know.
    You’re a mess.