There was a light inside of her.
There is in most ten-year-olds,
The magical side of the naive mind.
Or a mind that wanted to be.
You could see her sitting there,
staring out her bedroom window.
Head in the cloud,
mind full of dreams,
just as it was meant to be.
Behind the typical, everyday council estate.
There was life,
there was love,
Just not enough of it.
Not enough money,
not enough time,
not enough space,
every basic necessity
that the government overlooked.
Politicians neglecting their positions.
But oh no,
they did not feel it.
It hits the heart, the hope,
the next generation, that could have been…
inventors, creators, dreamers
But somewhere along the line, they slip and fall.
No safety net in place.
Young death and lost minds.
Hidden behind the masks upper class, middle-
Born and raised laissez-faire.
Deciding whatʼs best.
A culture that expects collateral damage.
A class, a generation, grown up,
believing that they are that collateral.
Gone, gone, gone,
turned into stats –
black and white figures of a lost life,
She was not there, just yet,
there was something deep,
stronger than the stereotype.
The life made for her
was not the life she had in mind.
On her way,
paving the path,
the path was not yet made.
it was her only hope and she knew it.
She knew it too well.
Daddy had dreams for her,
Daddy didnʼt want her to rely on
the government that had already failed her.
Daddy fell down.
City life with a lack of jobs and a need for comfort.
Something to numb the pain.
Her daddy thought this was the way.
Cash in hand kinda job.
She did not want to know what it held.
She could ignore it on weekdays,
Daddy was a plumber,
do not question it.
The weekends she would bury her head in the sandpit,
spend every waking hour,
making sure she did not have time to question it.
Self-preservation is hard to maintain in social isolation.
You cannot run away from your reality forever.
Some get just a little longer than others.
Mom was not happy
Daddy was a puppeteer in the world of addiction.
Mom wanted to leave.
But money is too tight and housing is scarce.
She must wait it out.
The ever-growing tension is easier to ignore from the school bus.
But it does not go anymore.
Her teachers said she had it,
had the world between her hands.
But she was losing it.
Do not get bored, little girl.
Do not open the locked closet.
Put your headphones in,
blare the music.
Write the words,
do not fall.
Do not fall yet.
Oh, wait, too late.
Her music has been cut off,
Mom just cannot afford it.
Now she must listen,
to every fight,
Canʼt pretend anymore,
they ainʼt gonna work it out.
She was invisible to try and help out,
but nowadays itʼs like sheʼs not even there.
Itʼs like they just donʼt care.
Her light’s fading away.
She tries to rock the boat,
show them sheʼs there.
Try to make them aware.
Good intentions with no avail.
Every minute of every day was spent in her broken home,
She fades away.
She canʼt even pretend to be on the magical side with a naive mind.
She unlocks the locked closet.
It was not worth it.
Worst fears confirmed.
Before she even had a chance.
Girls her age should be afraid of things that go bang in the night.
But sheʼs too focused on the men that are meant
to protect her
taking her Daddy away.
Momʼs losing her mind,
lost her job.
The only income that they could keep inside a bank.
Momʼs always in the living room,
but sheʼs never fully there.
She wants her momʼs attention,
becomes so used to the rejections.
She becomes afraid of affection.
She fades away.
You can see her sitting there, staring out her bedroom window,
You can see her looking for some comfort.
Give it a while,
youʼll see that sheʼs found some twisted form of it. Sheʼll have changed.
Then give it a month,
She wonʼt be sitting there.
Sheʼll be gone.