This World of Mine…

As a kid,

We aspire to be more,

We start when were four,

And climb the ladder of score,

More and more do we add to that,

Time infinitum in classes that only bore.

But if cut off,

At the age of four,

Due to coming a whore,

Per your parents telling you, so poor,

Then where do we go from there in the world?

We cannot retreat,

That would be in itself,

A form of suicide or self-beat,

We go on, as is all we can do,

But what do we become and who?

Are we always young?

A child of four at twelve?

A child of twelve at twenty?

Never to grow up past the age,

That innocence was passed over,

Constantly trying to become again,

That four-year old; twelve-year old, etc…

Is this what I am bound to do for all time?

To revert to the kid inside, what a crime,

Whenever I feel necessary,

When I need to be hugged

When I feel unloved,

What a world I live,

This world of mine…                      (ed)