Her
Her
Sitting here in the dark again,
connecting every little string in bed,
spending most my nights alone,
regretting everything I’ve ever said.
Longing for something real for once,
always feeling miles away.
Where’s that vibrant little girl?
Where is she today?
Her head is in a whirl,
wondering if I look okay.
She never did that before.
Why is that all I’m worried about?
she used to play and sing and dance all day;
now life is just a chore.
Can I bring her back?
Back to who she used to be.
She’s been pretending for so long;
no one told her there’d be a price to pay
for just simply being me.
In this world nothing is ever free,
how can she afford to come back?
Back again,
back to the world she once lived in,
back to when her only concern
wasn’t if I fit within-
within the box of who to be:
her or me.
If only I could go back
back to her,
back to me?
but that’s only possible in her dreams.
So she sits
connecting every string,
and thinking over everything.
Till the sunrise,
it creeps in,
and she’s forced to become me once more,
as she walks out the door.