As a child
I was left to be free
I was able to walk
To talk
To do anything that
The imagination
Though was real.
But as I grew older
I was told everything
That I once knew was wrong
And that happiness had to be earned
And that imagination
Is only for those who are unwise.
I had to make a metamorphosis
To conform into adulthood
And all the creativity and happiness
That was rampant
In my younger years was
****** from me.