With a proud smile
She showed us the packet
Of cigarettes
Stashed away
In her draw.

And my mind,
My naive, thirteen year old mind
Started whirling
With stories
Of addiction.

And to their horror
And to my horror
I began to cry
Quite hysterically
Scared and confused.

I am not thirteen anymore
I am not naive anymore
But when confronted with situations
That I have seen
Only in story book
I don't know how to handle them.

I run away,
I cry,
I don't take things into perspective,
Even though the problems
Are real,
And ones I might be able to help with
And not mine.

I should know better
I should learn
From now on
To not run away,
But running,
Is not rational
It's natural
And automatic
Only later regretting
The things I have done.

I should know better. I should learn. I have set a new goal.