Why are we losing that sense of surprise
for subtlety and sensibility,
trying to sustain a serious skin
full of constrained credibility?
Where has my inner child retreated to
with his sudden jolts and his ajar jaw
and why do I seek to be in control
when my future does not belong in my paw?
I have been meaning to roll back the years
to where every sight was something pure
and I could feel no fear about my worth
and taste no guilt about being unsure.
I wish I had an excuse to cry out
to a world I know nothing about.
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