The idea of it makes me feel sick

Like I'm coming down with something

Worse than any cold or stomach ache from eating too much

It almost feels like Multiple Sclerosis for my spirit

I'm told I'm too young to be looking back,

But that is because you have forgotten it,

But I can lie in bed and remember every moment.

At age six I was a cow girl;

I would ride my horse up and down the street.

At nine, a wise queen,

And at twelve, a famous historian.

But now I look out the window

Watching the grey afternoon

Back then it never fell so intently

Against my secret hide-out

And my stilts have leaned against the side of the side like now

This is the bigining of sorrow,I say to myself

As I walk this world in my boots.

It's time to say good-bye to innocence.

It's time for adolescence.

It seems merely yesterday that I believed I could glow

That if I was cut I would just shimmer,

But if I cut myself I just bleed.