We are inexperienced and free,
So we are whatever we want to be.
We possess optimistic minds,
And go along with the winds.
Our thoughts are limitless,
As if we are omnipotent.
Our actions are precipitant,
Because there is no need to impress.
How do we lose it?
We see ourselves as misfits,
Our new identity is a counterfeit,
With sudden movements causing us to slip.
Light is the bringer of good,
And a form of revelation.
For us it has brought destruction,
As our buoyancy darkens with falsehood.
Can I turn back the time to when I was young?
Can I feel the world the same way as when I was young?
Do you have the magic potion?
Or do I just have a notion?