I used to read I used to write Songs, Stories, Poetry.
I used to knit I used to sew Plushies, Scarfs, Roses.
What happened to the days Where I found enjoyment from the little things? Why is it now That what I once loved Feels like a chore That tires me, Bores me, Makes me contemplate everything.
What happened to my carefree childhood Where nothing mattered Other than when I could write Songs, Stories, Poetry? When I uses to knit and sew Plushies, Scarfs, Roses?