strip away this girl.
give her pink nail polish, instead of black.
let her read magazines instead of philosophies.
give her coffee with cream and two sugars; black seems too bitter.
let her bury herself between rose fragrances and blush eyeshadows.
give her hope that sweet will cut the bitterness. even though we know, bitter starts at a young age, when someone decided you weren’t too young to learn adult-things.
trade in the clash for radio hits.
laugh, smile, laugh, smile…just get used to it.
trade in her poetry journal entries for the ridiculous journals in the stores that say, you’ve got this or boss.
…you’ll get used to this.
give her hope this hole in her heart, six feet deeper every year, can be fixed by brainwashing herself to be happy.