Sometimes I am quite sure of it
I am an ungrateful little brat
quite the pet
quite the nightmare
and i find myself asking;
what happened?
what happened to those days, when you would rather roll around in flowers than even brush your hair?
now you find fault in every aspect of yourself
and those of your beloveds'
What happened, princess, to when your mother would hug you and you would-shock- smile?
now you turn away and shush her
What happened to spelling god with a capital G?
what happened?
and i find myself asking
and i find silence
and i let them fall, one by one, the hot tears
it's somewhat of a relief to let them go
a moment of weakness
weakness
yet so different from before
before, when you would run to you parents and they would light your face right back up.
and now you make sure every sign of sadness is gone before you leave your room, as if you cannot bare to show any vulnerability or emotion to the people who changed your diapers
you're sick
you want to scream at them
you want to hug them
you want to flash open rebellion
you want to hide
lost,lost,lost
poor little birdy
evil little girl