Brown hair and sadness

They stole me Angela, love
My pinky wigg, my paints
And that beautiful dark lightning
They stole my red lipstick
And that mad sexuality
I used to have
They stole my drugs
When I came back
And then my cigarettes
When I couldn't find my health
And I surprisingly forgot
That I had gave up
Of my alcohol too
I couldn't find home, anyway
And hurt me
Wouldn't help it, anyhow
They left me my birth name
And you
And a bunch of homeworks
From college
I had no where else to go
Any of this was enough
I lost my friends
Because everything seemed wrong
And I had to leave
I was just dying
I couldn't reconize myself
On my usual naked pictures
That wasn't me
Not even in a pretty dress
Not even in a very black coat
I wasn't me
And it wouldn't change a thing
To be sad or angry
I could be happy, whatever
I wasn't there
Not Mary Ann, not Debbie
Not Angela, not Alice
Not Isabel either
I was left with only three things
And that, sometimes, felt empty
Was you, my real name
And psychology