But a Child


I an but a child, they say.
I should not fear the monsters under my bed,
or the demons
in my closet.
My mind cannot grasp reality,
or the complexity of evil.
I should not knot the 'whys'
of how the world works,
or what really hides in the dark.
That is for the grown ups to know.
I should remain oblivious
and not have an opinion
worth any value.

I should know that my parents,
teachers, and police men
keep me safe at night.
I should chase butterflies
and rainbows
and coo at puppies
while believing
in stories with happy endings
and Prince Charming
where love cures all.
I should be content knowing
the world just is because of
I am but a child, they say.
But they know nothing.
I may appear a child,
but a child I am not.


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