She works in a sandwich shop at night,
and she cries herself to sleep.
She spends all day at home alone,
then tells me she’s so lonely.
She aspires to be a photographer,
a poet, an artist, a thief.
She’s in limbo at the crossroads,
and doesn’t know who to be.
She screams at the world, reviles her pain,
thinks nobody else can see.
She spits out the cherries along with the pits,
and wonders why she is so hungry.
She needs a boy, or a girl, either will do,
to love her so much they can’t breathe.
She takes what they give her, demands a little more,
then collapses when they leave.
She is a teenager and watching her
is exasperating, frustrating, tiring,
and most of all, heartbreaking.