Dead In The Heat Of Summer

Dead in the heat of summer,

With only a vision of angelic blonde hair,

Cars whizz by with pungent freedom.

They hold close to their religion,

That only he uses to his advantage,

And it feels like an everlasting dream.

Girls who do not have, must dream.

At least that is what occupies her summer.

Music is what she sees as her advantage,

The songs that play while stroking her hair,

Music is her true religion,

It is what grants her freedom.

Mama and Papa do not hold her freedom,

She takes it from her dream.

Elated upon hearing her religion,

She realizes her biggest hope for summer:

A boy as beautiful as her hair.

He barrels down the drive with advantage.

The music is his advantage,

Which propels her more like possession than freedom.

Giddy with excitement, she flips her hair.

As if in a dream,

This would be the summer:

The one that went against her religion.

But the music calls her out like religion,

Something so strong and having an advantage.

Is that not what is to come from summer?

A chance to relish in the freedom?

Realizing life that has only been a dream?

He must be trustworthy because of his hair.

Bombarded by voices and strands of hair

Falling, she wishes for religion.

But this is just a dream.

“I have the advantage”

She whispers to herself, hoping for freedom

From a dream that was to be her summer.

She yanks her hair to show advantage,

Craving saving religion or a chance for freedom,

Until waking from the worst dream of the summer