Virtual Ink February//March//April 2014 | Page 50

BY ELAINE DAVIS When I was about fourteen I learned To sing Myself To sleep My voice in the darkness Belting Ingrid Michaelson For only My stuffed animals To hear And sometimes I still cry Wetting the pillow Sobbing Because of the weight of the world Feels like it’s all on my shoulders But Kate Nash is now Far more frequent Than tears 50