You never did like change.
Change was too foreign
too scarey to be handled.
Yet here you are
with a U-Haul
and burger king crown
anticipating change.

Don't think you're the only one that's nervous.

We all change,
and I suppose its your turn.
You'll drink
and fight with your new roommate.
The girl who likes country.
How will she live with your
guitar and killjoy humor?
(I can already hear the funeral march.)

You cut yourself on a battery pack
trying to open the clock for your room.
I could see some tears
mixed with the blood.

I know.
It sucks.
(just like losing your Barbie's head to the dog)

But this time
there won't be your safe haven
hidden behind the purple beads
and useless knick-knacks.

We all have to grow up darling.
We all have to change.

(Hopefully you'll be a butterfly.)