Behind These Closed Doors
The March Hare came to visit today and when all my children wanted was Daddy; he was gone for hours.
Where is my medicine?
So innocent, but the noise they make is . . . too loud, too high, too much.
A rage I’ve always hidden burns in a secret corner of my brain, and right now I’m poison.
I need to conserve my words or I’ll end up crucifying them with my sharp tongue.
Slowly I shut down, with thoughts that are so loud.
I hope he’ll be home soon; I shouldn’t be alone with them.