O’, terrible awful mind of mine.
How can I even begin to think when you constantly barrage me with these blatantly hopeless thoughts?
My young soul yearns for the freedoms of innocence, yet you dash these nursery time fantasies.
I am yet a child trapped in this nearly adult body.
You cry out for the innocence of what once was.
Yet, once innocence is lost, there is no returning.
You, my mind, are faced with reality.
There is no way in which I could cure you.
I knew if there was, I would fly to the moon and back to reach it.
Now, your constant ailments are the realities that I tried too hard to find as a youth.
I am afraid I have grown up too suddenly.
However, maturity must come to pass eventually;
At least to some degree;
Even if the victim will never be prepared.