And in a table full of kids and grown-ups, I am the middle.
Too old to play with children,
Too young to talk with adults,
So, I sit in a corner and watch.
This elderly lady raises her glass,
Her lipstick stains her cup that's filled with alcohol. I think its wine.
Or maybe champagne, who knows?
The family prohibits my consumption of alcohol in their presence.
But it seems they can get intoxicated in front of me shamelessly.
This man outside, he just became a father,
I knew he was fond of nicotine,
Yet it took me by surprise the way he held the cigar.
Yet it took me by surprise the way he held the cigar. As if he was so, so, familiar.
Yet it took me by surprise the way he held the cigar. As if he'd rather hold hands with that, than his daughter.
This girl inside, her eyes are decorated with dark circles that reflect upon her drained skin.
The makeup is absent, and so is any sort of effort to look good tonight.
2017 must have hurt her a lot, so much that she lost any hope for the new year.
The kids in the basement, they yell and laugh and they sound so joyful.
But none listens.
Everyone is lost in the air of nicotine, and booze, and tiredness.
Everyone is under the illusion that everything is fine,
Everyone thinks they can fill the void with substances,
And sadly, these happy kids will be, one day, the same Everyone.
The time comes.
Everyone starts counting down the numbers, everyone but the kids.
the kids play. They're happy.
They don't need a new date to be filled with hope.
They live the moment, instead of pushing time to a new year.
"Happy New Year!"