This summer I turn 15.
In a couple of days actually,
The 15th summer,
I've always dreamt about this summer
How fun it would be
All the things I could do,
Like allow myself to fall in love
And allow myself to begin to trust
And allow someone else to care for me
But I've been presented with and issue,
You see,
I'm stressed.
Beyond stressed,
I'm nervous,
About EVERYTHING.
I cannot feel peace,
It's summer. What is there to worry about?
Well let me think, There's talking to people,
Because words hurt
There's letting people in,
Because actions hurt
There's falling for someone who doesn't care
Because hitting the ground hurts.
And I'd rather be numb
Then pretend to be happy, when I'm really sad
And Afraid.
So much for the 15th summer.