(Days of Me--Creative Writing)
I'm glad she's gone, that naive girl;
I'm glad I can breathe without her.
For so long, too long, she clung to the good
The world hadn't written, the way
Things were destined
To remain undestined.
I miss her, false hoper, faith haver,
I miss her, believer
And doey-eyed dreamer;
I miss all the mistakes
Mistaken as pure fate;
I miss all the gamble of cards.
I miss having ten broken hearts.
I dread being conscious
And rightly optimistic.
What horror there lies in the truth.
Call me free needer, and childlike deceiver;
Say I've grown up too fast,
But I'm content without pain of the past.