Monday, December 12, 2011

The Junkyard Girl


There is this girl I used to know.
This person I used to be.
She's the girl with mismatched clothes, dirt on both her knees.
Her hair is a mess and her laugh is too loud,
And she's playing somewhere under an old car on the ground.
She's dreaming and singing and talking to the dogs.
She's making up stories where princesses kiss frogs.
It's hot and it's humid but she can't go inside.
Her daddy is in there and since sometime last week he's just sat there and cried.
Some days go by and he won't get out of bed.
Some days go by where he's lost in his head.
And some days go by where he's loud and he's mean,
And he'll say anything to the girl just to get rid of his pain.
The junkyard girl with holes in her shoes,
Who dreams about worlds where people like her don't always lose.
The junkyard girl who just wants to see her dad laugh,
The junkyard girl who doesn't remember when she last had a bath.
Because there isn't hot water, and there isn't a stove,
There's no door on the bathroom and no place else to go.
She lives with the keeper of the junkyard alone
In a one room office she calls home.
She's never known better but she's seen a lot worse
And all she wants is someone to tell her is that she doesn't have her daddy's curse.
So she laughs and she talks and she keeps to herself
And she never tells no one about all her dreams on the shelf
She just sits with her daddy while he cries and he cries
In the dark little office as inside he dies.
Maybe some day she'll leave, 
Someday she'll be free
She'll have heat and a shower and a home full of stuff
And babies and real food and she'll be loved enough.
But no matter where she will go or the people she'll meet,
No matter how much I change or how many sunsets I see,
There are times when I know the junkyard girl is still there in me.
The times where I'm quiet and the times where I'm scared
The times when I run my fingers through Lainie's blonde hair.
The junkyard girl is inside, timid and meek
Wandering through the metal, playing hide and seek.
She is the voice that whispers when I feel all alone,
She is the one that wants to follow wherever dangerous boys roam.
And she is the one who believes I'm the one no one keeps
So on nights like tonight, I say
"Hush girl. Go to sleep."

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