childish things.
it is so negative to act like a child
why?
though it has not been long since the blood rushed to my cheeks
and I laughed freely and found magic in the simplest of things,
now I feel as though I am filled with the soot of the world
black and caked on like the dirt was on my feet at the end of the day.
cares such as shoes did not rack my mind
when I ran with my eyes a-light and my hair disheveled.

our eyes are glazed, look at them they have no light
the murk around irises is ravaged and wrinkled
the tears that rarely seep from the haze are uninspired and full of pain.

see the eyes of a child
with your curdled tortured ones gaze into them
if you truly see, you will see yourself

then ask,
why?