Cargando...

I miss....

I miss being a young child,
So innocent, so fearless.
Roaming the woods, not noticing any flaws.
Going to school, playing with friends.
Living without care or regret.
 
Now all of that is lost.
Lost in the dark, empty closet we call life.
“Grow up,” they say, but my question is why?
Why grow up just to miss being a kid.
Why grow up just to be miserable and in pain.
Why should we stop being kids?
 
In our modern day, kids are our future.
Do we want a future of boredom and regret,
or do we want a future of freedom, love,
and most importantly perfection in everything?
 
If you ask me, it should be a unanimous vote,
but I don’t run the world.
I don’t have a say in how we work.
And chances are neither do you.
But, our world is based off of society,
so if we all transformed into a whole,
we would finally have a say.
 
We then wouldn’t have to miss being childish,
we wouldn’t have to hate everything,
we could be happy and everything could be perfect.
Sounds great hu?
My question is that if it sounds so great,
why can’t we do it?

(2014)

Kind of a random poem. I think about being a child often and wish it never had to end, and then I thought, honestly why does it have to end. Why can't we live forever as children. Not literal children, I mean mentally. it just confuses me.

Otras obras de Justus Hall...



Top