Picking sunflowers under crisp skies,
Chasing butterflies with crinkled eyes,

Freedom ringing and stars aligned,

Being young was a delight.

 

Blossoming was subconscious and slow,

Starting low before it’s true growth.

Cutting fruits alone although knives were my foe

But still, there was aways to go

When was I grown?

 

When I could turn the wheel and take on highways?

Babysit children in ways that paid?

Get through the taxes maze, myself I praised

Maybe those were the days.

 

No– I stopped being childlike around the age of thirteen

No longer a preteen though a technology fiend.

Cloth slivers of green slipping through hands of keen,

Childhood falling through the seems.

Who was I to be?

 

The entirety of 8th grade was my personal suppression,

My anxiety and depression getting highly aggressive.

My friends confessing their problems as they were progressing,

My mind in recession over my future I was obsessing.

My childhood no longer a question.

 

Now I know lessons about life and living through.

It gets hard to but you’ll learn what to do.

In a sea of blue be red and to yourself be true.

Not everyone deserves followthrough or help from you.

And finally be yourself, you’re starting your debut,

No one can take that from you.