wake up every 5 am with coffee stains under your eyes
the bitter analytic was once a child with daisies in her hair but now there's only demons in her head
she wasn't beautiful as the ocean but she had the depth
the type that always noticed the shift in the air after midnight
bright eyes turned into her mother's, sullen and pitiless
they told her to stop looking at the stars and to start looking at her future
soft hands turned into her father's, brutal and calloused
they told her to stop fixing people and to start fixing herself
there was a child with roots in her veins and hands softer than flower petals
she talked about the universes stamped on her fingerprints and compared them to the bark of trees
but now she only talks to her demons
the ones that ripped the daisies out of her hair
you watch the news, think "oh, how horrible", when someone's been murdered and feel horrible when you realize you didn't feel a thing
grab a coffee, always black, rub your eyes and hope you get through the day without malfunctioning
the earth gave her a youth her parents couldn't offer her but the world took that away
this isn't growing up, this is oblivion