All those scared nervous nights
with the door not quite closed
all those shameful drunk fights
fall asleep in your clothes

playing war like a soldier
camp at aunt Billie Jean's
don't go back til they're sober
that was life so it seems

and you'd cuss out existence
hid away sad and blue
then return with resistance
no one even missed you

watch the lonely campfire
at thirteen wide awake
sleeping bag your eyes tire
under stars that don't hate


©2012 Lyn