Life is fun.
Look at us go,
We play pretend and talk to our friends.
Our parents are laughing,
And we snuck coffee out of their cups.
We had our stuffed animals as our fearless companions,
And we were ‘adorable.’
We believed in things so easily,
But so did everyone else.
We smiled so easily,
Our missing teeth showing.
Life is hard.
Look at us try though.
We talk to ourselves, because no one else wants to.
Our parents are crying over money,
And telling us to grow up.
We sneak more coffee, but now whole cups.
We hide our stuffed animals,
Because apparently, it looks ‘troublesome.’
We ask about dryads and fairies,
And the little boy laughs in our faces.
We etch smiles on our faces, for a show.
Life is unbearable.
Look at us, who are we?
We still mutter under our breaths; things people don’t care about.
Our parents are graying, hiding, trying,
But their eyes tell all.
We drink coffee by the pot, our eyes heavy.
Our stuffed animals are our tissues.
I bleed into mine every night.
We looked at stars one night, infinite beauty.
And everyone pointed and laughed.
Smile, little girl, smile. Why can’t you?
They already think you’re ‘psychotic.’
I still see you in the mirror.
Look at me, am I everything you thought I’d be?
Or more? Or less?
I made a few friends, they’ve helped me sort through reality.
Our parents sit, they still cry, they still hide,
But sometimes, they laugh and the worry lines crinkle.
I still love them, after all this time.
We sip our coffee insipidly.
I’ve given my stuffed animals, except one, away.
They were getting tired of me.
I looked at the stars, the other day.
And no one laughed, someone joined me.
Maybe, people are catching on. Maybe, an eye for beauty is not so bad,
As those people used to make me think.
And that made me genuinely smile again.