homesick runaways

I found my red boots today and slid them on over blue feet�
Four peanut butter and jelly sandwiches stashed in my little pony lunch pail�
Don�t know how long these sparse provisions will last, but I�m bringing along my imaginary friend for company�
Every little girl knows that running away can be lonely, but there are plenty of places to sleep for the night deep in the corners my imagination�
When the road becomes too much homesickness inevitably sets in� too bad I�m already home� what is it that I am sick for?
I am always sick for something� maybe I am a hypochondriac, petrified by the thought of growing up�
No body listens when you are little, but at least we listened to ourselves�
We knew what it was that frightened us awake and running barefoot out of tucked beds into a grown ups arms�
When you are all grown up there are no tucked beds, no arms to run to, no tangible spooks to define these daytime fears� there is only homesick

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