Here I am
watching young children play,
little boys and girls,
running in every way
without a care in the world.
They remind me of us.
How I dream of those times
when we were oblivious
to the lives of others
and the world
of hate surrounding us.
But when we met the hate,
you seemed to change,
you’re now a girl who wears a different face,
one I no longer recognize.

What happened to the little girl
whose eyes
were filled with wonder?
What happened to the crazy kid
standing on a toy box lid
pretending it was a stage,
and that I, one single person,
was the whole world watching?

What happened to the girl
who passed secrets in the night
and who was always following me,
standing just to my right?
What happened to the girl
who wanted so badly to change the world
but always, gladly,
took the time to sit and talk with me?

When did you turn
into the girl who swore,
who changed
the clothes she wore,
and only spoke to me
with words of hate?
When did you become the
one who was always late?
The one who ripped apart
pictures of us?
The one who ripped apart
my heart?

And after all that somehow,
I miss you.
Not the you that you are now
but the you that you once were.
I miss that little girl.
Where are you?