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On the shelf underneath the tick tock of the clock, There’s a story of the future that these rhymes will unlock. An image of a mother and a young girl so sweet, The lens his the lies, a captured moment of deceit. The little girl grew up to be much different than before, Little did the mother know, her girl would be a whore. The girl continued as she grew, to eat away her brain, With absolutely anything that could take away the pain. It didn’t happen overnight, let’s lead you to the start, This poor sweet girl’s destruction came after someone broke her heart. She tried and tried so many times, to believe she was worth more, Eventually she turned the tables, the game had become a bore. Sex, drugs, booze, and razors seemed to do the trick, The girl still would not admit that maybe her mind was sick. Hiding behind a cigarette, she let herself go numb, Letting go of all the hope, that one day she could overcome. Self-hatred seemed to be the thing focused in her mind, But when it came to others, she never seemed unkind. No one ever knew the truth, her face wore a facade, Putting on a show for them, to her it felt like fraud. But surely she had to hide the truth, no one could ever know, She wished she could be the image girl, from oh so long ago. I find it quite disturbing that her mind was never freed, But the most disturbing part of all; that little girl was me. -A.D.
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