Remember

 


I miss the days before anyone could drive.
We'd go for walks
 way to late at night.
Go to far an need to be saved.
Sit on the side wait for mom or dad.

But sometimes we couldn't be saved from our minds
The days when We'd walk and recite
About how the shadows and trees
Turned to people and beings hiding and waiting, for us.

A game on my couch turned Into a night of terror
As we described what we saw in unison.

"You stayed up to late. Its your mind playing tricks"
Is it just MY mind playing tricks?
You saw them too.

Back then we were little
And told we were just making stories.
So what's the next excuse?
Sit there scared waiting for more
Mental abuse

From mom dad or people in the neighborhood.
Never feeling safe,
Feeling guilty if we ever felt proud
And slut shamed if we ever wore something that didn't fit someone's standard of "OK" in our clothes.

I miss playing pretend
And having someone else's life to ruin.
Making their life worse than our own
And sometimes even better than
What we lived through.

So, welcome to northridge.
I'm the drug dealers daughter
Who are you?