Tuesday, August 30, 2011

I can't come home until I'm a failure in no one's eyes but my own.

Moving was hard,
But staying seems harder,
Especially with all the pieces I left behind.
And people need me now,
More so than they did then -
Now, when I can't come be the shoulder
Their tears shed on
And the kind ear their problems spill out to.
So I send wayward spies to watch over
The ones I love
And cherish
And wish I could be there for:
Girls like me, who need girls like me to tell them that it DOES get better,
You just have to hold on
Until I come home
And can show you first-hand that things change.
But right now, I can't,
Well, they haven't.
Not for me anyway.

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