Cardboard.
A cardboard cut-out, cheap and thin,
Where nothing deep can enter in,
That’s all the world I’ll ever see,
That’s all that life will give to me.
A faded picture on the wall,
The toy that’s broken from the fall.
The party missed for chicken pox,
The Christmas present that was socks.
Too late, I missed my childhood days,
And I’ll I have’s a faded haze
Of imitations, hand-me-downs,
A cheap dress next to ballroom gowns.
Nostalgia’s nothing, never was,
I never would go back because
There’s nothing there that isn’t fake,
And that’s what makes my spirit break.
And conversations of the past,
Regret that childhood never lasts,
Torments me with the things I missed;
Meeting people; being kissed.
And friends can chat of days gone by,
But I just sit there with a sigh.
I lost those years to loneliness;
What might have been I can but guess.
© Jemma Hill
