fourteen
fourteen and burning like technicolor under a hot hollywood sun
eighty-six years ago, and judy garland lived her life on mgm movie sets
sixty-two years ago, priscilla beaulieu spent her german nights with elvis
last night
I came home from marching band practice
and I cried under the black starless october clouds
because I couldn't preform well on the same test society gave to teenage girls like me
because I knew there was something terrible brewing inside of me
my head is so full of dreams and demons
dreams where I am the model on a blank billboard or movie star on a screen
untouchable, buetiful, and completely dead inside
demons that tell me I'm wasting my nights, my days and my youth
I live in my world of delusion
and my bones are not yet strong enough to get me out of it
I look in my mirror
wether it is night or morning, the southern heat does not know
I see myself pure, pale aura shine, piercing sweet
sharp as death or sin
when my birthday cake is sat infront me I will see my reflection through the candles flame
fourteen and I am on fire
like pompeii coming down
