I was once a child
Small
ready to grow
Ready to know the secrets I felt I had not known

What was it to be old and have perception
I was far to curious
And far too naive about all life’s supposed wonders

How could I have known how things would go
How could I have known that it was double edged sword

I grew up and began to loath how things had become
I started to regret wishing to feel the weight of responsibility
The same responsibility that now plagued me

Now I would give anything to be small
Small with dark brown hair
Small with large eyes
Small with big dreams

I dream that I can redo things all over again
That I can escape
That’s the irony of growing older
The irony of evaluation of perception