I saw a young boy, no more than four years old, being playfully swung by his parents whilst they walked along the road. The pure fun and laughter on that boy’s face led me to write this.
Give me back the eyes of innocence and I would tell the tale
Of intended deeds of gallantry, then to you I could regale.
When I lived in times of purity before the living abused my mind.
And I left it abandoned, surrounded by its kind.
Those times lived but shortly, but in them there were sown.
The seeds of ambition which died before fully grown.
The life span of naivety melted before a flame,
Now it’s too late for them to ever shine again.
Life is the killer, never blushing as it kills.
All those smiling children who want to cure its ills.