I miss how easy it was to smile
and not see myself
as a liar.
How easy it was to laugh
without a trace
of irony.
I miss how easily
sleep would come.
I miss how easily
I could trust.

I miss the time
before complications;
before broken families;
broken hearts.

The time when runaways
were the stuff of fiction
and sad news stories,
rather than fodder
for a poem.

The time for pitying others
for their absentee fathers
or overly dramatic siblings
has long past.

Yet another one of the side effects
of my newfound cynicism;
I have nothing
left
to give.

So hide behind your shield of smiles
and let false happiness mask
the depth
of your trials.