maybe

i’ve never felt so disappointed before

though i’m a regular to all sorts of sore.

maybe i was just eight, and maybe.. just maybe

if my grandmother never cut my hair too short

if my mom never let me watch television so close.

then maybe, they might have liked me. 

i tried to have my nails under colors of flowers

had my teeth wired together like a nerd 

but more like i could’ve been heather

i did what i did. 

aimed the arrows at the target

cried on shallow waters at sidewalks

four-eyed girl, still she couldn’t see it

why everyone just didn’t like her?

maybe she didn’t like the hurt,

so now just ask her ‘bout what she doesn’t like anymore.

eleven years had passed

still, eight felt like just last month.

and, i don’t eat the butter with the thought that it was ice cream

therefore, none of them screamed

the way it used to be before nineteen. 

so maybe, if i was little smarter?

but i was-- so maybe a little funnier?

but i was--  so maybe a little kinder?

but i was-- so maybe they just didn’t like her..

so, maybe, she didn’t like the hurt

which is why maybe now i don’t like her. 

she’s so hard to please

the mirror always gets blamed.

her expectations are a bit out of the league.

so maybe, she didn’t like the hurt..

that made her, stop liking her. 

when she tried to fix and be her own friend

brought all lipsticks that made it to trend

changed wardrobes to justify common sense

but in the end.. she turned over. 

then it was over

so maybe, she stopped mending her, 

‘cause it’s easier to hate than to fix the girl.