Mom is so focused on her dreams coming true,
She buys me a tutu —
She wants me to twirl and go on releve
Like the pretty dancers that sway.
.
The ladies wear pearls,
and live inside machines;
I live in the Dream House,
where there's fractured luck
and broken dreams,
and shattered windows that steam.
.
I am not a dancer,
Just a dreamer
Of someone who will have money,
And be a success outside of curled toes
That sting like honey.
.
The pretty cake that mom made
Cries and sniffs
Because I cannot lick its core —
Mother's eyes show that she's seldom,
I said no.
.
I wanna play with dolls,
My Barbies are in their Dream House,
Living a fantasy of a young girl
Who doesn't understand mother's troubles.
.
My Pink Bow falls off
And I let it stay in its spot —
Mom eats her cake,
And cries all day.
.
The Tutu's edges remembered the day
that they suddenly turned grey.