I didn’t know that stagnation would come so quickly.
That rooms would become coffins, that they wouldn’t
Miss the life within their legs when running through
Grass and mud. The sprinkles of nature. The imagination
Turned outward. I don’t know whether time had been the
Thief. Everything had been left behind and resuscitation,
Forced and unwanted, didn’t do a thing, I lost, I still was a child.
Is this what awaits me? Giving up everything that defines
Who I am without words? Limitations and stillness, life
Leaking out of adult-approved holes? The sudden ceasing
Of everything colourful and blossoming? Is this the trap that
Every child steps into? Children sucked into the grey routines
And paper cut drawers of their fully grown mirror images whose
Miserableness had never been so blatantly obvious to them.
Is this what your world has to offer? Is this where you want me to go
And be and grow? Into what? Dive into a cacophony of copies of lives
Previously lived, exhausted and thought? And lose myself, the essence
Of your system? As quickly as you can, the less we have to fight you, the better.
I ended up on that wall, feeling the life sucked out of these children.
It didn’t take long. I had disappeared for an instant. And you took
Everything away from them. Their ideas, their faces, their energy, who
They were. And for what? Was it worth it? To make them just like you?
Upstanding citizens without spine and personality, paying their bills in
Time and getting a job that reconfirms the lack of a pulse and right of existence
That bore me to death, depress me, I knew who they were before you deformed them.
And you recognise the same expression on their faces, the one that displeases you
Every morning, and you feel normal, common, but there is always that pang
Of guilt for not being more courageous, for forcing them into the same mould,
The same dead end lives, the same abdication of their true selves for the smooth
Running of the machinery, for nobody’s greater good.