Little tool dresses,

Pink shoes, hair in a bow,

Ballet, picture books, milk teeth,

Magic.

Rain pours down my cheek,

No umbrella held above my head,

I have to hold it for myself, if I’d remembered.

Licking chapped lips, teeth chatter,

Black coat flutters in the wind.

Crawling into bed, no longer a chore,

Now a welcome rest from the chains of existence.

Eyes flutter closed, mascara under eyes,

School books strewn across the floor,

Black tears stain the pillows.

Little tool dress in the back of the closet,

School shoes, no bow- it’s weird,

Book club, Jekyll and Hyde, stained teeth,

I wake.

Is this what feels like to grow up?