The greatest moments ever
Were strung together by arguing over
Who would get to play with the most
Beautiful Barbie and the smell
Of an innocent, sleepy morning.
When the day was new and the excitement
Of choosing what to wear,
The purple leggings with a Harley
Sweater that would growl when
We would push on the center.
When all of the neighborhood kids
Would meet on top of the hill that
Held our imaginations greatest creations.
The greatest moments ever
Were when our mother's would arrive home
From being gone for far too long and the
Scent of the night would consume our nostrils
And just remind us that she'll always come back.
When security wasn't an issue, we always had our
Beds, even if monsters threatened to steal
Us from our lives, we'd hide under blankets.
The greatest moments ever have now escaped.
What are we supposed to do, adulthood is
A neverending nightmare that refuses to
Let up on its smothering hold.
Our mothers are no longer able to remind us
That they'll always come back, the
Mornings aren't innocent and
That hill was torn to pieces.
The monsters aren't afraid of blankets anymore,
They actually walk among us.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
The greatest moments ever
Were strung together by arguing over
Who would get to play with the most
Beautiful Barbie and the smell
Of an innocent, sleepy morning.
When the day was new and the excitement
Of choosing what to wear,
The purple leggings with a Harley
Sweater that would growl when
We would push on the center.
When all of the neighborhood kids
Would meet on top of the hill that
Held our imaginations greatest creations.
The greatest moments ever
Were when our mother's would arrive home
From being gone for far too long and the
Scent of the night would consume our nostrils
And just remind us that she'll always come back.
When security wasn't an issue, we always had our
Beds, even if monsters threatened to steal
Us from our lives, we'd hide under blankets.
The greatest moments ever have now escaped.
What are we supposed to do, adulthood is
A neverending nightmare that refuses to
Let up on its smothering hold.
Our mothers are no longer able to remind us
That they'll always come back, the
Mornings aren't innocent and
That hill was torn to pieces.
The monsters aren't afraid of blankets anymore,
They actually walk among us.
I don't know how to end this one.
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