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Innocent Me
April 27, 2022
I miss the moments of sweet innocence,
Before I knew what the word "hurt" truly means,
When feeling the breeze of butterfly wings,
Equals that of fairy kisses,
When all I needed was a sunny day,
Or the confines of a basement when rain came our way.
I miss being allowed to be a child,
My imagination able to roam free,
To be able to have bad days without judgement,
Because I try to be my innocent me,
I'm pushed away and told to grow up.
I miss when growing up meant being able to do something new,
Instead of pretending that I know all the answers.
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In a world where the adult is the wise and the child the naïve, I want everyone to remember that being a child; having that creativity and imagination; having bad days, is OKAY. Often I feel like I am being told to "grow up" when in reality they are telling me to be perfect (which is impossible) and get rid of my creativity to be "more practical". Never let your inner child die!