When we were young

Imagination was our sanctuary

We did not hurt

Because we could fly

Away to neverland

And our cardboard house

And our parents saw 

And kissed our cheeks

When we grew up

Our imaginations faded

We started to hurt

Feeling heavy as stone

We forgot how to fly

We forgot how to smile

And our cardboard houses

Collapsed

We relied instead

On cardboard boxes

And smoke and cigarettes

To fly up high

We burned our fingers

And blackened our lungs

And our parents saw

And bloodied our cheeks

When we grew more

They didn’t care

So we drank our hurt

In want of warmth

And our cardboard houses 

Were replaced by glass cells

And our parents didn’t see

And tears stained our cheeks

We decided then

That we wouldn’t grow

And we built ourselves

A cardboard home

And grabbed some pills

And took a knife

And climbed inside

Our cardboard life

We slit our wrists 

And watched the blood

And took the pills 

And curled up

We went again

To our neverland

And our parents saw

And felt again

As our cardboard house

collapsed.