So sad and serious,
forced to grow up
and look after myself.
I tried to be brave
I tried to be smart
Tried so hard
so very tired.
So tired of being sad and serious.
I don't know what joy is sometimes
or lightness of heart.
Like a little boy playing dress up in a mean, fast, grown-up world,
I pretend to mean and fast too.
Learned it by watching those with power;
Trained in the ways of those who can manipulate people and circumstances
for the love and security they want.
Only to find fools gold;
restless wandering
empty whirlwind
toxic water.
Can I be made young again?
Can there be a do-over?
Can this mean, fast heart be healed?
Can I take off the costumes and stop pretending to be someone I'm not?
What will become of me if I do?
Who will look after me?
Lord, have mercy.
I'd rather be fake than feel alone,
I'd rather be mean and fast than feel out of control and abandoned.
I'd rather take than be taken,
I'd rather use than be used.
Lord, have mercy.
