When your parents cry
And here we go again,
the clock’s hands whiz and stop.
I must halt this crazy parade,
I have to give daydreaming up.
The raindrops shine on black windows,
tiny stars running down.
I look out at the day and offer a smile,
the cloudy sky returns a frown.
Faces are blurring, the room is spinning
My cut-out thoughts are just beginning.
Confusion, warm confusion rises like a sea.
I suddenly hold a sleeping baby on my knee--
This baby does not belong to me.
Nightmares are frightening,
but when it happens during daylight
It comforts me like no one else could.
People tell me to stop lying,
but I think I should.
I think imagining things is good.
It’s amazing the things you create
In your muddled teenage mind,
to make yourself immune- to be blind.
To escape from the dreaded reality
of when someone close has to die.
To have something else to think about
when you see your parents cry.
