Remember when we used to lay down on the field, looking up until we see clouds?
Then we create faces like we were a poet trying to say the words from our mouth but only laughter that came out.

Remember when we stayed up all night,
telling stories that were probably weren't real but we did it for our scaredy *** and couldn't sleep that night?
We were like directors trying to create some corny horror scenes from our head but our pants ended up filled with ***.

Now, when I look up to the clouds,
I see our childhood painted in pure white and I  paint them in my empty dusty canvas that I found  in my basement.