Innocence and/or Schrodinger's Cat

I was in the school library at lunchtime

Looking at a book entitled ‘When A Friend Dies’.

I felt guilty, because I wasn’t grieving at all

I just felt really sad.

 

I came to the conclusion that day

That I was grieving my innocence

And that’s why I was so upset

Why would you expect anything less?

 

But I think I was wrong that day

I think my innocence is like Schrodinger's Cat

Both dead and alive.

 

Because sometimes I see that old fire

Inside my eyes, when I smile

And I’m a child again

It’s a medical miracle, you see

Digging up smiles deep inside of me

 

I’ve undergone so many changes

All the way from Hi-5 to The Smiths

And it all happened so damn quick

Am I even the same person?

 

Am I even the same person?

 

And I know things I don’t want to know

And when I’m the most innocent in the room

I feel at home, and that doesn’t mean I’m innocent at all

It just means that I’ve changed that tiny bit less

 

And that’s why I call my innocence Schrodinger’s Cat

But see, my innocence is both dead and alive

Because it’s all relative

This poem is about: 
Me

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