I remember when I was young
I would blow eyelashes off the tips of my small fingers
And wish for a pony or a unicorn
Literally
I was a cliche kid
Into all the Barbies and sparkles and soccer
And now I'm still a cliche kid
With hipster glasses and an ego to match (none)
Now, when I wish upon those dying stars
I hope for something more
Like money
Or happiness
Or freedom
Something to spare me time to have fun
Because I'm too wound up nowadays
From the stress of school (ugh)
And the problems of my family
And those eyelashes blown from my roughening skin
Is spent on much more meaningful things
Than fantasy story creatures
Sorry to disappoint.