I was your beautiful baby girl when I was born,
what am I to you now?
Your cried tears of joy way back when,
but your tears turned into my pains and sorrows.
I miss the times we could talk.
I miss the times you would listen.
I hate the thought of hiding things from you,
but I no longer have your trust.
You've drawn your lines and I must not cross them.
How I wish you could hear me though.
Oh how I wish I could hear those four words again.
"I'm proud of you."
But to you I'm just a collection of numbers chosen by another.
I'm starting to believe these numbers too.
I'm beginning to see what you see and I'm scared,
but I can't reach out for help.
We've both grown in different directions,
our paths no longer intersect.
My words have lost all meaning to you and reigns clear to me.
Have you payed any attention to "our arguments" recently?
Have you notice that no longer speak during these?
Have you notice the lack luster in my eyes?
You scream at me to listen,
but I think you may be telling the wrong person.
