sunglasses
you hide behind them
walking through the park
and making sure no one sees your eyes
they might tell too much
like how you want to swing and sit high up in the tree
swinging your legs and watching the world below
laughing because they’re caught up in their lives
and don’t hear you humming old summer tunes
and don’t feel the ice cream drip on their umbrellas
the umbrellas that keep life from hitting them
hard in the face
and you pulling leaves off one by one
studying them, realizing they’re so different
like people
but then again
they’re just a mob of green nothing
when you stand far enough away
but you don’t want people to know you’ve changed to that
dark brown shriveled leaf falling to the ground
decaying
being stepped on
the ones you hated seeing
the ones that stole summer from you
you touch the bark
its darker than it used to be
you take your sunglasses off
your eyes hurt but they’ll adjust
you see life again