Ambitious but ridiculous,
are the first words to think of,
heartfelt ridicule emerges in.

A phrase, a saying from the ones they admire,
A fight or a lie left clouding up their innocent mind.

"I need to protect" is the instinct as they hold on tighter,
but how can a child protect something that wasn't even dying?

Innocence is replaced with fragments of imagination,
but bliss can never be replicated after concealed and pain felt fates.

Lessons and quotations,
stick inside their brain,
moments of dedication, are in droplets of rain.

Find your dreams, write them down inseams,
yet if you miss one thread of the stitching you can't simply,
're-sew' everything there, it has to stay the same,
creating this imperfect game which tortures their brain.

An adult's mind adapts to suffering, pain, and gore.
A child's mind reacts and begs to see no more.