A BARELY BREATHING MEMORY.

the creativity was pulled from our fingertips. stripped from our souls.
and the childhood fell.
fell from our lips and blew away in the wind.
got stomped under the feet of....grown-ups.

was kicked and beaten right out of our souls.

left dead in the dirt. and we're just left empty.

we're still trying to pick up the pieces and put them together with our tape and glue sticks, to put the child back in us. 

but it won't fit anymore. 

it's so broken that the edges don't quite fit the same way, they cut up your insides. 

trying to break out, to get some air. 

all it needs is some air. 

to heal. 

to fix itself. 

then the child would fit again. 

the grown-ups know but the grown-ups don't tell you this. 

they don't care. 

it's not like your pet dog that they tell you to feed and water everyday so it doesn't die. 

because they love the dog. 

it's your childhood, they don't want it. 

so you just try to keep it inside of you, to hold on to it as long as you can.

but it's broken and dying. 

and you're starting to forget...

the pain tickles, trying to remind you that the child is still there. 

but you brush it off, ignoring it. 

because that's what the grown-ups told you to do. 

and now the crayons are melted and my childhood sure as hell ain't never comin back.