Dusk is a funny word, you say
and I laugh at you sweetly
(a child's mistake)
because really you are child
(not sweet and innocent)
but still lost in the world
knowing what you want
but never reaching it
(cookie jars go on counters)
and I cry for you
like ripping off a scab
even though it'll only grow back
(children never listen)
but you're not a child
(you will never grow up)
yet constantly I act
as though I'm the mother
you lost so long ago
(too young to grasp death)
sometimes it's tiring
but no matter what
i cant send you to the real world
(so protective of my baby)
because I fear for your safety
(don't cross the street alone)