My younger self has died.

She lays rotting in the ground.

Or maybe just her innocence and faith,

That she once held so dearly,

Are the ones pushing daisies.

They’ve gone to a better place,

But she wants them back.

She needs them back.

Her trust has fallen,

After slowly being stripped away.

Her belief,

That her parents, friends, family,

Would always love and accept her.

Haunts her with her lost stupidity.

God, if only she could be ignorant again.

Her hopes,

That she could fulfill her dreams,

Her wishes, her aspirations,

If she only tried her very hardest,

Were an idiotic fantasy.

But they’re gone now.

Some might say they’ve passed on.

A delicate way to say they’re dead.

They are broken and rotting,

And they will never come back.

So she is left,

With the bittersweet taste of decay,

And the promises she choked on.

A painful reminder,

That her trust is what killed her.