laughing on the inside
drowning in a
river of nostalgia
faces i haven't
seen in almost
20 years
and after a few
hugs and some
small chitchat
it was like the
clock was
turned back
everyone is in
their cliques
and there i was
sitting alone
laughing on the
inside
feeling a strange
sense of comfort
knowing that i
haven't missed a
damn thing by not
being around
i left as soon as
the event was
over
pretty confident
that no one would
notice
harsh reality
baited breath
sharpening the
knives as the
seconds slowly
tick away
anger bubbling
to the surface
just another night
spent wasting
away with all
the other losers
trapped in this
world
that harsh reality
of finding out
your parents lied
you are not special
and no one will
be waiting for
you in the end
you always
wondered
why so many
people turned
to the bottle
or the needle
you now know
why
the cynical world
you always wanted
to believe
every child wants
to believe
but soon you are
old enough to know
that the holy water
comes from a toilet
that men in costumes
are molesters refusing
to let anyone have a
better childhood than
them
the good parents
understand you can't
hide the cynical world
forever
inept parents keep the
myths alive for as long
as possible and end up
raising the next serial
killer to be studied in
institutions of higher
learning
and people wondered
why i never liked
climbing on the knee
of santa
J.J. Campbell (1976 - ?) lives and writes on a farm in Brookville,
Ohio. He's been widely published over the years, most recently at
Pyrokinection, Regardless Of Authority, BoySlut, The Camel Saloon, and
Zygote in My Coffee. His latest book, Sofisticated White Trash,
was published this year by Interior Noise Press. You can find J.J. most
days on Google+, LinkedIn, or on his blog, evil delights (http://evildelights.blogspot.
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