Rebellion

there's a sheet of construction paper outside my window
shadowy trees and houses are drawn on
I'm confused because I don't remember who drew them anymore
but I have a feeling it's someone I know very well
last night I forgot how to sleep,
so I tore away the crappy artwork
and climbed back to where I came from
I met the man on the moon;
he mumbled about forgiveness and told me that I was too quiet
but I said I don't blame myself anymore,
the timing's just been off
he was proud and put me to sleep on an anorexic star
where I dreamt of saving the world from the people who die
I knocked it off my shoulders
and woke up back in my box
with thousands of lilies under the bed
that morning I finally started my new religion,
a revolution to be less dramatic
and I told my mother that I loved her
(I could smell the medicine in her clothes)
she asked about my appetite and then fell through the floor
so I ate dinner alone
and people were concerned,
but I said I preferred to be alone
they sat around me anyway,
and I yelled at them and broke their hearts
my revolution was so beautiful, the stillest night possible
I watched the man on the moon circle the earth,
replaced the construction paper with a calender,
and taught myself how to sleep again
I don't blame anything anymore,
the timing's just been off