I Still Play With Crayons

We yell and scream and cry because we believe we have been robbed.

Robbed of our innocence.

Our creativity.

Our hearts.

But, the thief was caught years ago and put behind bars.

That criminal lays on that steel bed in that prison cell and they yell because the bed is too cold.

And they scream because the bars are hurting they’re eyes.

And they cry because they’re lonely and sad and they know they did this to themselves.

And then all of the sudden the sun shines in your eyes again and you feel hands on your shoulders and now you’re sitting outside.

On the grass.

And you realize you were the thief all along.

We take our innocence, creativity, and hearts and we blame the world around us for stealing something that wasn’t stolen, just misplaced a little.

But we still dream and dance and we haven’t completely lost ourselves.

I’ve been hurt a lot.

But, I’m still innocent.

I stopped playing with dolls and I’ve started playing with minds and words.

But, I’m still creative.

I cry all the time.

But, I still have my heart. 

I look in the mirror and think about that little girl that I used to be.

My smile still looks the same and my eyes are the same color.

That little girl isn’t gone.

She’s just a little tired.

We get lost when we start growing up.

We stop growing up and we start giving in.

You’re 18.

Wishing you were 8.

But, why not be happy at 18?

You don’t want to put yourself back in that jail cell.

I refuse to believe that we are all too far gone.

Goodbye nostalgia.