When I was a kid, my mother told me I needed to grow up quicker
We'd bicker about how life is a straight line and I needed to be a man
with guidance and plans like the palm of my hands wrote my life story
before I could even ignore me. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man,
that believed night-lights were a scam to force little minds to sleep
like sheep who were always counted on to put eyelids to rest.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man, a man who stayed up all night
and sighed the next morning that I did not get enough time to sleep.
When I was a kid, I wanted to be a man, but the definitions kept changing, and based on society's placement, I was far away from being a man.
I hid the kid inside me locked away behind bars of ribs,
because kids were not allowed in bars, nor were they allowed at work,
at worst I found myself smiling not for the sake of me but others.
I held judgement that grew like a crimson rose with bitter petals
just trying to settle my old moments, live the memories in open
and hope that putting the kid inside me away was the better choice.
My voice, though deep could seep the minds of those who cared enough,
to graft dreams that bare enough for me to help see them through it.
I wish that I knew it, that being a man was somewhat of a ****** dream
because the gleam is never as bright as the source of the light,
and lonely nights were only more terrifying when you're awake.
I met a girl with a beautiful face, who dared to tell the truth
that a roof is merely a ceiling in a simple way and the fact
that I acted like a man did not make me one. I remember the words
like a curse tainting families with the plague for generations
meant to bring indignation but it didn't. The words she said
went to my head and travelled through to my heart like roots
growing shoots that helped me understand that I could change.
'Men don't do that, boys do that'.

I'm a man built on the pressures surrounded me
that I've been remnants of others more than I have been myself
and a night's help could not tell how far that I have been lost.
I tossed away fiction with satisfaction because like Pinocchio
who wanted to be a real boy, I found myself wishing the same
when tears clogged my face as I stood over my best friend's grave...
I was a man who wanted to be a kid, but I've hidden that kid so deep
that I can only ever find him in my sleep, because feeling like a kid again
would only ever come in my dreams.

I watched her body left to rest and I wondered yet...
Why was I a kid who wanted to be a man?