The faces of those I once loved
Haunt me until I direct my gaze
Any direction other than up above-
I'm known for the worst parts of me
From five to eighteen.
Oh, tender heart and calloused campassion,
Did you ever think you'd fall head over feet
For a plan that echoed violently with calamity?
Cause I couldn't have imagined I'd be forced to be born an adult
With my childhood as a poltergeist.
I didn't think things would change
From New York to Candy Dance Lane.
It's not about who's to blame, or who's at fault.
Mundane and bitter thoughts only cause wrinkles to the eye-line,
And we all know that's the marker of the mile
Of e-harmony driven cat lady.
The plan to move in darkness was always shady
But fifteen year olds haven't exactly developed critical thinking.
The faces of those in the now comfort me.
The places I've come to know echo of the best nineteen.
So, I stand, certified adult
Because there was a murder in the city
Of a five year comedic tragedy
With my name on the billboard.
Bright lights still shine on that drafty small town
But I'm different and live in the now.
Maybe some day, five years from now,
I can revisit the history of a 13 year reign in a worn-down town
Of cop-outs and happy shops that sell green under the radar
Maybe I'll revisit that t-boned totaled black car.
Maybe I won't feel like I have to run so far
To escape something that has my name written in the Candy Dance ruin.
Dear History, redemption of your John Hancock is coming soon.