Wish upon a star;
Go on, fly away far;
Home is ever so lonely now;
Both painful and true;
You left, quite out of the blue;
My child, please come home;
I'll play all your favourite games;
Even the one in the frightful brown mud!
Cold and alone;
This house full of memories;
I want to go with you;
Oh, please take me away;
Aren't the tales real?
Pirates and Pan and Lost Boys too?

Throat,
Please open,
I need to let it out,
I can't keep holding back,
I need to express myself,
But you won't let me,
You tighten,
Constraining,
Closing,
Around my feeble words,
That cry from their prison,
To be allowed to show themselves,
But you won't let them,
I choke,
My whole body begins to shake,
And those lyrics that seemed so perfect,
Stop.
.
.
.
I stare,
Into nothing,
Wishing I could speak,
But hoping more that I,
Can begin to sing in key,
But no,
You decide for me,
That my sentiment is not worth sound,
You refuse to permit my right to free speech,
By closing my vocal chords down.
.
.
.
Their eyes stare,
No sympathy,
Critical confusion,
In the end their glares usher me away,
I shuffle back from the microphone,
With an apologetic smile to my pianist,
I turn and leave the stage,
My hands hit the floor,
My head down,
Eyes down,
Tears fall,
Anger builds,
But only at my sorry self.
.
.
.
Failure.
.
.
.
The rest of me was so strong.
.
.
.
But my throat gave away my pain.

Six purple tulips,
Stand proud and tall,
They are the lucky ones,
Who survived despite it all,
They are cared for and noticed,
Treated with respect,
They always get more water,
Than the others can get,
So no surprise then,
With treatment like this,
They bloom far more early,
And can afford to take a risk,
And is it really all that shocking,
That out of all these flowers,
The ones that are most beautiful,
Are the ones doted on for hours.

Five white tulips,
And one more with a hunch,
Sit lower in the vase,
The feeblest of the bunch,
They all knew from the start,
That they would never live,
As they were born in plainer robes,
And have nothing more to give,
One of their number,
Has already succumbed,
Looking down at the ground,
Determination numbed,
This flower was unlucky,
Turned away by those above,
When all it really needed,
Was help and love.