When I was five
I told everyone my hero was daddy,
And sweaters were worn in fall and winter
To keep me warm of course.
I slept with a small blanket, it protected me
And kept monsters away. The next day
I’d sit in a class of bright colours and excitement,
I’d tell my friends about my adventures
Of being a princess or battling dragons.
Now I’m fifteen,
The man I called hero is the reason for my attacks
And the sweaters are worn day after days
Because the definition of a sweaters function has changed.
The small blanket couldn’t fend off my dark thoughts,
The monsters found a way to relocate from under my bed to,
Inside my head.
I sit in a class of dark and depression and resentment,
And I’d tell my friends of my new battles,
Battles of myself and depression but
Where are they now?
Well, in the same place I am.
Living the teenagers dream.