Drunk at 2pm

Barely a woman,
Hardly a child.
And yet, she is both.

She is the woman
Who can think, love, give advice,
Converse in the "right" way.
She does not feel afraid.
And she can survive.

Yet in the same instant,
She is the child
Who's confused and frightened.
Who is stupidly selfless and
Does not understand much.
But she understands this…
She understands this situation
Far, far too well.

She is the woman sat alone,
Silently observing
The 2pm drunks
Downing Jaeger-bombs
Without a care in the world.
Content with her curly fries
And trusted can of coke at her side,
With a pen in her right hand
And paper at her mind's feet.

She is but a child
With a woman's brain.
A woman's heart.
A woman's soul.
A woman's eyes.
She is a woman.
But she is a child nonetheless.