Sometimes there’s not much to say.

So we fill the nervous silence with words.

Why?

There are days she wants to die, so she smiles

and laughs it off.

And dresses prettily, and smiles radiantly,

and laughs it off.

He watches every blurry face around him

and he grins and joins the crowd

But he sometimes remembers the old days,

when he wasn’t quite so proud.

x

Days spent taking a million pictures

and laughing with a different sound

He sort of wishes things hadn’t changed,

so he grins bigger, it helps, he’s found.

Curious, always asking a question.

Laughing too much, smiling too soon.

Random observations,

predictably changing the subject.

Steer clear of awkward topics

that could lead to too much truth

and far too much curiosity

from the wrong person

you never wanted them to notice

but everyone wants to be a hero

till they get that perfect

admiring crowd that they find out

they actually hate and then they

finally push you back into obscurity

instead of toting you around to share your story

like the talking dolly from when you were three

and you dont have to

pretend youre grateful for their help

that you never wanted in the first place

so you can hide again only now theres not the same

restrictions and youre a little more scared

Not home.

Phone off.

No food.

x

Home late.

Glare yell.

No money.

x

Wait a minute, back up.

I’m supposed to be the teenager,

They’re supposed to be the teenagers.

You’re supposed to be the mother.

Or that’s what I thought.

Bye.

A/N: I would love some feedback. I want you to absolutely destroy these ramblings. That's how I can improve.

But compliments are accepted too...(: