My Cardboard Balcony

If Only (Panacea) by Belinda Roddie perhaps this can all be alleviated with spiced tea and gingerbread men, all dancing with their buttons sewn on tight, the smells as rich as a baker's wet dream, allowing me to momentarily forget

They told me it would be easy. They told me it would be fun. They told me I had the support I needed and I'd definitely get this done. They lied to me - it was nightmarish. They lied to me - it was Hell. They lied so harshly through their teeth that it sounded like whistling bells. Their words will never comfort me; they do not meant a thing. And before everything goes mad, I plan on escaping.