A Post Prepubescent Teen to His Former Self

to that little boy that lives inside of me

in that dark clandestine place where the reaches of the sun fall short

(in the dark), i'm sorry that i have forgotten You. i've tried my best

to make sure You had all the space You needed to grow, but

society's veiws of what a man is has stifled Your playground of the

imagination. creativity isn't maturity (being mature means i can't be free).

You have had no room to run without constraint and spread your arms wide

(i want You to be free). and I have had no time to remember You, as i was too

preoccupied with being an adult. so to make it up to You, i have

brought You gifts. it isn't gifts that You are used to getting, though: You

can't really hold these gifts. i bring You the gifts that society has given me:

logic.        education.        facts.

now these may not seem like paramount things now (things You care about),

but, trust me (and You can trust me), these things are extremely important.

these things are tools- You can use them to build a house whenever

i have forgotten about You completely. because I want you to be safe.

but it isn't safe if you are forgotten. a child can't live like that. So run. Run

as far away as you can from Me. It isn't safe for you here.

      Death is imminent.

Society has taught Me to      sacrifice what I love,

but this time, I am      sacrificing because of it.

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