I remember the innocence of childhood, like one remembers the smell of their mothers' perfume, I remember that, too, easy recollections of railroad ties and the thrill of hiding at the bottom of a pool, hastily replaced with the loneliness of watching the moon rise from the center of a midnight field, overtaken by teenage fury, violent and vengeful for a stolen childhood, now adults leaving ink footprints through the new age, teeming with a different variety of rage, unwavering and driven, lamenting on what could have been