kids breathing in smoke

to fill the space in their minds,

stumbling, drunk,

as the lights blur beneath their eyes.

kids who wear secrets like 

they’re in disguise,

always tripping on something— 

egos, promises, lies.

kids who want to be special

but don’t know how

no curfew, out

until the sun goes down.

kids who were born 

with fingers crossed behind their backs,

never learning goodwill,

always wearing masks. 

kids who seek love

on highway lanes,

bottles empty,

trying to drive away their pain.

kids who can destroy 

but not rebuild,

losing everything

they wanted

trying to be fulfilled.

we are those kids,

the broken hearted.

the kids staying up late

asking how this started.