Beneath the innocence of a child
Is the yearning desire to rebel,
Not against his or her youth,
But against the universal rules of normality,
Whether it be unleashed within a cupboard below a staircase
Or while sitting in the next room over,
Listening to the sound of what magic could be.
Perhaps if I keep reading,
This fantasy will live on
In a reality that is, instead,
My own.
As a child’s adolescence blooms,
The morbidity behind what it is to
Repeatedly fall victim to fiction
Is surreal.
Something that non-readers cannot comprehend
Is that the fantasy does live on in a way that is unfair,
For it simply resides in our ever-seeking minds
In which that same desire to rebel, too, lives on;
As I have already come as close as I ever will
To filling that void.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
Beneath the innocence of a child
Is the yearning desire to rebel,
Not against his or her youth,
But against the universal rules of normality,
Whether it be unleashed within a cupboard below a staircase
Or while sitting in the next room over,
Listening to the sound of what magic could be.
Perhaps if I keep reading,
This fantasy will live on
In a reality that is, instead,
My own.
As a child’s adolescence blooms,
The morbidity behind what it is to
Repeatedly fall victim to fiction
Is surreal.
Something that non-readers cannot comprehend
Is that the fantasy does live on in a way that is unfair,
For it simply resides in our ever-seeking minds
In which that same desire to rebel, too, lives on;
As I have already come as close as I ever will
To filling that void.
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