As I lay staring up at the stars,
With my mind drifting away so far,
And though I wonder what up there could be.
I feel as though someone's staring back at me.
A child version of my tired self.
Is glaring down upon this image,
she doesn't like what she sees.
But I know she doesn't understand the raised eyebrows,
she doesn't know what life is like now.
She remembers lying on the couch, watching ninja turtles.
Riding on her Pappy's back, and listening contently to his voice.
She remembers toys at every outing and all the childhood joys,
But struggle wasn't plain to her back when life was good.
Back when playing with her best friend meant walking out the front door,
and Momma didn't have to worry about fearing to lose her.
When love was something reserved for family, games, and tunes.
When Michael Jackson stole her heart when he "walked on the moon."
And I know she doesn't understand, that Pappy's not with me.
And I think maybe if he was, my life would likely still be,
Oblivious to suffer, hunger, problems everywhere.
Still playing my guitar more than I eat, or talk, or stare.
Yeh she remembers Games, and fun, and carelessness.
And Dreams, and Grass, and Wildness,
When music played throughout her body, soul, and mind.
When she knew nothing of apocalypse, violence, and crime.
I wish that I still knew that girl,
She made me what I am.
She's always in my memories,
and I'm her biggest fan.
We liked, Watching Pete and Pete, and staying home from school.
We thought wearing overalls, and boys underwear was cool.
We didn't mind holding spiders, and rarely stopped to intake food.
It's like she knew that there was little time, and we had so much to do.
We didn't mind the Sound of Music, and Hemingway was great!
Mom would read a chapter to her before she climbed in bed.
And call it Nostalgia, I do too.
Life was great then when the music was on.
I miss being little, and cutely singing the blues.
Life was good then, I had it won.
And now all I see is struggle, and hate.
Children starving in third world countries, abroad.
In the faces of wasteful rich people with food on their plate.
...Financial problems, prejudice, and fraud.
I see Gasoline hogs, and spiteful people who try.
To make people lose jobs, friends, and glee.
I see really mean people try to make others cry.
this is a prison we live in... no one is free.
There's laws that ban speech, and freedom of choice.
We've lost our foundations, it's falling away.
And I hardly understand why some are so poised.
Unphased by this country going astray.
And now that another piece of my childhood has died off.
The world gets even harder to face.
To look myself in the eye, without fear, I cannot.
It's hard to say if I'll be okay.
I may need help to find my way.

...and as the music came to a stop, so laid to rest the King of Pop.