I keep trying to find some kind of
deeper meaning,
to what this is ‘all about’,
but all I can see is the pink-stained bathtub,
grassy bruised knees and the
cocktail of tears
fading on my skirt.
I keep trying to solve enigmas
of why those beautiful fools are
so, but all I see is
the mascara-stained cuffs
of sweaters in the summer sun
and ***** dressed as volvic.
so I look for my answers
in the words of those who I wish to be
I search for comfort and reassurance
but ne’er do I see
anything more than
the tell-tale tear track of a lie
that although has been told a thousand times
does not cut any more shallow
than the depths of this pool
that I find myself falling into