| When Patricia was
eight years old, she wanted to die and wrote this poem.
with this stick in my hand
I conjure myself to a distant land
more pleasure, no fear
hocus pocus far away from here
I hate my body
it's not my body
if only I could stop this pain
so that it never comes again
Thousands of tears on my pillow
I'm weeping like a willow
disgraced and naked again
death is what I wish for him
I don't want to let it rest
I want to get if off my chest
help me make such a magic stick
or find some other magic trick
Patricia |