What do I try to write
What do I try to encapsulate
Is it just to snare a man on a date
Or find forever on a sheet of white
Is it wonderlust or just shite 
As I seek to see reflected 
The place where we wrecked it 
In the middle 
And in Spidéal 
I found a degree of independence
But it was rendered dark by endings 
And I had a pain in my side 
And Granny worried about me living this life
As I lay on the top bunk 
Writing in a diary about all the junk 
That occupied my mind 
And there’s a memory I wish I could leave behind 
I left a note in the door
That said, a stór 
Could you please stop stealing our stuff
I wanted to be Nancy Drew in love
But the lady found it on the floor
And I could barely walk to the core
Of where I had been before
And twenty years later I still feel the burn
Of all I had yet to learn 
About decorum and holding back 
The part of me with a car jack 
Ready to take off the wheel 
I was crushed by the way she must feel 
In response to my malfeasance 
And somehow I wished I could dance
In those shoes again 
With my broken finger and disdain for men
At thirteen years old
I would embrace not scold 
And regale with tales or tunes
Of all the friends in those rooms