When will they realize things aren’t the same?
We try to deal with it in our own ways,
Only confining in those who realize.
Sometimes we aren’t that lucky.
Only finding comfort in ourselves.
Thinking, overanalyzing, trying to understand.
Destroying all faith by losing our innocence so soon.
When will they realize we’re wise beyond our years?
Sometimes I think wiser than them.
Scared, frightened, yet grasping all concepts.
Closing ourselves off by thinking of consequences.
Intimidated by happiness and those who find
it, But silently begging for their secrets.
When will they realize they aren’t helping?
Just making us dream of what could be.
Increasing the pain, making it harder to heal,
And if it does, leaving permanent scars.
When will they realize?
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