The Early Years
the early years are nothing but pictures
snapshots of a different life lived
she was happy and smiling
she was young and free
from what society would inevitably
she was so innocent and young
but that was then
that little girl is gone
nothing but pictures in a book
words on a yellowing page.
she grew up into me
you are still in there little punkin
but you are different.
we changed. gone are the scraped knees and climbéd trees
now its pained memories and empty pleas.
the candles are much more heavy
now begging to go back to that perfect life
but little one you are safe with me
i’ll hold the misery