i keep my teenage years in a shoebox
in the corner of my wardrobe floor
there’s some poems in a notebook
and a poster on the bedroom door
i think i like seeing how i’ve changed
from when i didn’t know where to start
but when i see pictures of that girl
something about her breaks my heart
she didn't deserve the pain she felt
the tears that kept her up at night
anger that poisoned old memories
keeping our reflection out of sight
at least that's what i guess i am
now i put on makeup for work
and hold my boyfriend's hand
i will laugh and swear and flirt
sometimes i might drink too much
there’s a ghost still haunting me
but it’s growing out of touch
questions i used to ask myself
the answers are unforgiving
fuck the past, fuck the future
i have resigned myself to living