My friends are tumbling down
Like jack and Jill
Their arms are bruised and bleeding
All for that painful thrill
And I can’t help them
No matter what I say
They don’t trust a kid
Who looks forward to each new day
I dig my nails into my skin
But I stop before it bleeds
Because I’m afraid of what may happen
If they look and see
And they don’t talk to me
They prefer to post online
Their desperation grows
But in real life, it’s “fine”
I try and ease it with humor
But alas I am talked over
Because they don’t trust a kid
Who really is a pushover
We really are just kids
I wish they could understand
We haven’t lived long enough
Is this really all they’ve planned?