Life as a Teenage Paper Doll

If there were 25 or 26 we might, we think,
Tip the balance in our favor
But perhaps adding one or two more
Might be like adding two lanes to the 405
During the quiet and peaceful hours
There is plenty of room to navigate
This life
Plenty of room to maneuver when it is
Time to go home
Plenty of stopping space in
Times of peril
Plenty of time to speak of
Plenty of time

But during hours of days of duress
We’ll still miss an exit or
Hit a stray dog
Or sit behind a line of smog
Cursing the world, unforgiven
Making mistakes that violently end lives
Provoking visuals that give cancer to the mind
And it spreads unless seclusion is a road
She is willing to travel
So alone…

I don’t even feel you
But I know I will

I don’t see you
But the image will haunt

Nondescript paper doll
A statistic in a health book to share
In teenage math
Or something like that

And you just have to wonder at 3AM
Does this save another’s life?
Do you fight to legalize what kills?
Do you fight anymore?

But that’s what makes us human, right?
The fight to the top in a 24 hour day
The climb, the battle, the superiority
The best that ever was…
Never talked about again in four years
When your purpose is served

How much will we glorify?
How many stories end in
I love you?
Will you still love me in 24 hours?
How about 25? 26?

Those extra hours could change the world
Or
Just make us fatter
And grind the earth to a harsher halt
Than the jolt we already feel when you leave

Fingers
Man, those angry fingers are going to point and fly
And while so many question “why?”
The realist ponders, “Why not?”


Often I hear you at night
A faint melody with interludes of percussion clash
Only life can be so random
When you return to dust and ash