More poems by MooseOnTheLoose

Being the Child

The Adult:
Jealous of freedom
Longing for compassion
Cold to the outside
Breaking on the inside

The Child:
Jealous of objects
Longing for compassion
Cold ice cream on a hot summer day
Breaking toys

What does it all mean?

The Adult says:
Kids have no worries
Kids have no stress
Kids are dumb
Kids are distructive

The Child doesn't know how yet to say:
I worry about my friends
I have stress about fitting in
I have not yet had time to learn
I wouldn't distroy if I knew how easily things were broken

Apparently nobody ever learns how easily things are broken
Because adults around the world break
Children every day

They have to be more mature
More sophisticated
No more games
No more fun
"Be an ADULT"
They say to us

Well then
Adults are the dumb ones
They always want to be a kid again

Hypocrites.
Poem by MooseOnTheLoose