After The Fun Dies Down

cycle of life and depression

as a kid, i resorted to being intelligent.

i felt as if it were just in my genes

"a diligent writer like her mommy"

I believed in these fallacies too long.

i dreamed of soaring through university

crying as i threw my cap in the air

running to my them and saying 

"I finally made it to the end goal"

she said the time would fly by me

but i sit with a acidic taste in my mouth

failing assignments i did with no effort

this wasn't what I expected for myself

the boys never stop teasing you

your parents always say it's because they like you

no, addison, none of them ever liked you

just another excuse that never fails

the teachers continue to sit at their old desks

their croaky voices a pain in my neck

teaching only half-captivating content

none of it ever really interested me

however, things do change with the days

your mother stops kissing your cheek

your father feels it's inappropiate

to call him your princess

i mean, they'e not wrong.

our cycle spins slowly like a wheel

churning like the stomachs of 

the diets i put myself through

growing up is growing old. 

growing old is withering away. 

withering away is what life feels like 

after the fun dies down.