I need to grow up but I don't know how
When my feet hurt I ask myself
Could that be? At this young age I have already begun to
        dilapidate?
Or is it just my brain weakening,
Panting, airless, reluctant -

I was not made to live this life, nor were you -

My mind says my legs were meant to
Traverse natural fields
And gape without scrutiny at the beauty
        of things around me
So my body tires walking on tiled hallways
Because it knows better than I
As to what this body was cut out to be -
But it's specifications don't fit
        any of these multitudes of molds
So I cram myself into angles and
        depressions unsuited
        because it's for the best
        it's for the betterment of society
        it's so I have a place on this earth -

But I already had a place, we all did,
Now our bent forms are unrecognizable to
Our Mother who wonders
"Why would my child pervert itself
        out of shape from its beautiful form?"

Through what common pair of eyes do we all see and
        at what point did we decide
        our own couldn't show us truth?