Adulting In Infancy

Photo by Mateus Souziia from Pexels

 

Now that we're kids again

Back to the past

Far past the post of infancy

Where days were sunshine bliss

On a rollercoaster ride

& weekends

were a sensation of dreams

Licked to reality

As the magic wand.

"Lollipop!"

Filters through the gaps

Back to the handy-shop

Life un-buckles

It's shackles

Down the riverbed

Where a rainbow 

Speak's peace

Off the tear drops

That scatter the paper.

Stories!

There hope is reimbursed

To life

Off it comes

Far past the fairytale

That comfort the pillow late nights

& talks the body into inaction

Where fear is home

In adulting 

Doubt as the re-enforcer.

Weapons Of Mass Destructions

 happy was the day

i was born

with no chain around my neck

i cried

but years took hold of my neck

and broke me down

before chains, became jewelry

wrapped round it

that i choked more

as days expired

suffocated at the pleasure of few

as my gifts

became weapons of mass destruction.

happy was the day

i was born

with no stabs upon my heart

i loved ease

but decades did a number 

and left stubborn scars

for before, i was a lover

wrapped in the glory of joy

but time, crowned sorrows on my plate

that every time diner rang

my stomach knotted

displeasure serving a feast

as my gifts

became weapons of mass destruction.

happy was the day

i was born

with no snaps or talks after my

i rejoiced

but my voice were what they were after

calling it a must

to be under a master without  heart

that bed got soaked of tears

begging for life

yet denied to live

for picture perfect

were the only story allowed

as my gifts

became weapons of mass destruction.