You have seven days to walk out that door,
Never come back forever more.
Pack up all your belongings,
Or leave them all to collect dust till the new owners arrive.
I don't care how you will survive.
It doesn't mean anything to me.
I'll throw my life into tiny blue boxes,
I'll wipe my mommy's tears,
And I'll fake a smile when I say,
"It's OK. I didn't really want to stay anyway..."
Where will we live?
Alone with no sheets?
Do you think I can crash with my long lost Aunt who lives on Misery Street?
How can you be so cruel?
I guess I will be having self invited sleepovers for quite awhile..
But I hope you will never know.
I have nowhere else to go.
It's all about how you finish..
Please, I'm not asking for any sympathy.
I just want my mom to be able to look in my eyes without feeling so bad for me.
It's not really that bad.
So why can't she see?
I know we will be alright.
Middle class tragedy.
Too wealthy to have to not pay for school lunches,
To poor to always bring our own.
You have seven days.
So you better get out.
I don't care how you'll survive.
It doesn't matter to me if your dead or alive.
You are just middle class; a middle class tragedy.
No comments:
Post a Comment