What’s the point of a smile

if it doesn’t mean what it’s supposed to

then you’re in denial—

There’s more truth in a frown

when you’re bending over to see

the world upside down—

That sweet little kid,

the mind of a child

speaking a language we knew

before the fire went wild—

Who gave you that scar?

The one you hold onto like it’s

some kind of reward—

When I ask myself

this sort of question

it feels, like I’m someone else—

That sweet little kid

dug deep in a hole

still forging forward

when he’s got nowhere to go—

Time’s a delicate cut

healing over and over

your have and have nots—

Life’s a school picture day

we smile for flash bulbs

then like memories fade—

That sweet little kid

with a stomach of knots

his hands are bleeding, clenched

with a fistful of rocks—

The point? I guess is to give

hope to the child you lost

becoming this thing—

This burden of flesh

it’s beautiful yet

our soul is the reason

we’re here, now don’t you forget—

That sweet little kid,

that sweet little smile

we offered the world ours

now who, just who’s in denial?