The Tree That Never Grows

March 1, 2012
By superc0llider SILVER, Alexandria, Virginia
superc0llider SILVER, Alexandria, Virginia
8 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Those who talk the most about individuality are the ones that most object to deviation, and maybe one day that will change. One day, everyone will just think what they want to think, and then everyone will probably be thinking alike." -- Andy Warhol

Oh little girl,
One day you’ll be a lady,
With eyes that burn and shoes
That skate through hell,
And girl
One day when you are sad and lonely,
You’ll close your eyes and see what you befell.

With soft hands and intricate intentions
I know you’ll sneak your way into the sun,
With crowns that could be found on any corner,
But pride and bliss that never could be won.

Some day my dear, when you are but a child,
You’ll meet your man who holds you high and proud,
With shoes that spit and cars that shine like silver,
And a flaw you’ll find that jingles far too loud.

And one day my girl, you’ll find a place to keep him,
Locked and kept away from an external world,
And though together you’ll be man and wife,
You know at heart that you’re still but a girl.

You’ll find and home that rings out loud and clearly,
The kind of message you’d just love to hear,
And perhaps you’ll stay beside your options
Or take what fate should whisper in your ear.

And in that house you’ll plan out all your choices
Or take a mix that never should have been,
With walls that sing, and wood that simply smolders
And a picket fence to keep your patience in.

Perhaps you’ll get your scorching son
Or perfect daughters,
And with your glossy toys
You’ll take them far,
And though they’ll grasp at your hand daily,
They’ll grow up never caring who you are.

And all your life, outside your picket fence, girl,
There will remain to be a tree that never grows,
And whether it would have died or blossomed,
Oh that darling tree, we’ll never know.

Oh girl you say a night you can’t stop dreaming,
But you dream of only windows painted shut.
Of doors that close and locks that won’t stay bolted,
For you know your curiosity has struck.

Well heads and clouds
They might be good for dreamers
But all you’re stuck in is a lot of smoke,
And if that’s the most creative you can get girl,
Then one day it’s on your promises you’ll choke.

And with your head held high and withered hands that tremble,
You’ll hold up to the sky your golden crown,
And realize though your eyes were on stars, girl
Your feet had never once touched off the ground.

The author's comments:
For Prom Queens Everywhere.

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