Of "Good morning to all"
With a response of bitter silence
And a glare that declared
"Get the fuck out of my room"
A far cry from those salad days
When each sunrise was greeted with a morning mouthed grin
And a springy little bounce from the bed
Without a hint of any darkness within
The hormones that work their maturation magic
At the same time draw feelings most tragic
The self doubt of the "Am I good enough"'s
Accompanied by the wearing of the black upon sunny days
Application of ten layers of eyeliner
And when all else fails
A messy bunker of a barricaded bedroom with which to hide from the world in
Someday a butterfly will emerge from that cocoon
But until that day
Just squint your ears really hard
Because it really means "I love you"
Whenever she says "Get the fuck out of my room"
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