Sarah Jones | + Follow Poet |
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Lucy Paris

(works better when you read 'Suzy Brown' before this)


I tell my father not to cry,
Mum would want us to be happy,
I rock my little brother,
Feed him and change his nappy,

And all the while I try to smile,
And hold it all together,
I used to love helping Mum out,
But I'm reaching the end of my tether,

I saw Suzy Brown the other day,
She seems to be doing the same as me,
Holding it in on the surface but underneath
She must be so unhappy,

Mrs Brown had a bike in her backseat,
She couldn't see my mother,
But they both flew away to Heaven that day,
Or so I told my brother,

Since then, the last thing on my mind
Has been my appearance,
But I think that's the real reason
Behind my friends' non-interference,

People stare at my parting
Where the blonde is growing out,
They just don't seem to understand
I have bigger things to worry about,

I worked hard to afford my clothes and shoes,
But what use is all that when
You're trying to comfort a widowed man,
And you'll never see your mother again?

Everyone knows me around my school,
So it cuts me to the core
That although they know my story,
They don't talk to me anymore,

I know that people used to envy me,
Jealous of every last possession,
It saddens me that they'd be shocked,
To hear my heart's confession;

Everything that makes me Lucy Paris,
I'd gladly give away,
If I could've got there in time to kiss my Mum goodbye,
Or be with her for once more day.

Copyright © Sarah Jones | Year Posted 2007

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