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And I am a writer, writer of fictions 
I am the heart that you call home 
And I've written pages upon pages 
Trying to rid you from my bones 

She goes round with rainclouds in her hair

And she glued her lips together
So she never had to speak

Gathering dust as I try to search within 

I just needed time alone with my own thoughts
Got treasures in my mind but couldn't open up my own vault
My childlike creativity, purity and honesty
Is honestly being crowded by these grown thoughts
Reality is catching up with me
Taking my inner child, I'm fighting for custody