There are afternoons,
I imagine you coming back for me.
Days where I sit by the front door,
hoping to hear your footsteps coming up the walkway.
But they never do.
You never do.
You haven’t been back here in years,
not that things have changed.
Nothing ever changes here.
I wonder if you ever did come back,
if you would look for me.
I’m not the little girl you left behind anymore though.
Some days I look at my reflection in the mirror,
and barely recognize my own face.
If I’m unsure of my own identity,
how can someone else claim they know me? One thing that always stuck with me,
even now ten years down the line;
was that you told me the world was waiting. I had believed you then,
A silly child,
dreaming of happy endings and fairy tales.
Now I know,
you weren’t trying to inspire me, you were running away.
The world doesn’t wait,
it never has.
This world will spin you around until you feel sick.
If you came back here now, you’d have to pry the front gates open, they’re not locked, just unused.
I want to tell you that now I know,
The world may not wait for anybody, but it will let you along for the ride.
You’ll get through this,
but you won’t come out alive.