when did the artist in me
become a scientist?
when did the starry-eyed dreamer
become this stranger with the cold logical mind?
what happened to the flower child in me?
did she die when i cut off her hair?
when did the idealist
become a cynic?
when did she realize that life wasn't beautiful?
what made her change?
when did i stop believing in magic and faeries and god?
i used to make-believe for hours...
when did i stop writing?
when did playing the piano stop being a pleasure
and become just another chore
one more task to be accomplished?
where did the passion go?
what happened to the girl who laughed and meant it?
i miss the girl i used to be
where did she go?
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