Goth Before Goth Was a Thing

They shuffled as an angry group Eyes averted, as if they were ashamed of themselves My daughter never used to be like that But she had been ushered in, She acted like she was one of them Her Pollyanna side rarely came out these days. She was wearing dark eyeliners, and had painted her room black. I had not heard of Goth yet, for it was only the middle seventies. Her friends began hanging around, wordlessly, on my couch. If I came into the room and tried to converse, they left. So I came in the room quite often. She had lost her way, so to speak. I knew it, but we were new in town. She was glad to have friends, even if they were posers. We had moved a lot. She had given up much. She needed them at this time, For pretend friends were better than no friends at all. I was relieved when she decided to trade them in for the service. The day she joined the Air Force, I rejoiced, Figuring this bunch of angry downers would not follow her. I was right. They didn’t. After basic training, she began to smile again. And she had new friends. God works in mysterious ways.