Poem of Which I Still Need to Title

When did we really stop growing up?
Imagining, dreaming...
Hoping, believing...
When did we stop it all?

Maybe...just maybe,
those childish, extraordinary, innocent feelings
Are not all gone

They're still there, deep down inside
Suppressed by society
Its expectations,
Its deliberations,
Suffocation
From the materialistic world

There was a time, when we didn't care
About our looks
About our hair
What we eat
What we wear
None of that mattered

Time didn't exist,
But fairies and dragons did
They fueled the mind,
Imagination would fly,
Alongside those fascinating creatures

All ideas were possible
You were unstoppable
On top of the world
With freedom,
Unbreakable

(Speed up talking, more intense)

But now you are broken
Stumbling,
Crumbling,
Under the weight of the world you once stood upon,
It now lies on your shoulders

The responsibility,
The pressure,
You can't even measure
When was the last time you even got to think?
You can't even remember
The last December,
That you actually enjoyed the holidays

Buying,
Supplying,
Lying,
Denying,
Its all you ever do now

Because you care too much of what others think of you,
How you talk,
How you walk,
Your personality,
Your originality,
Its fake now
As plastic as the new bag you've bought
Containing something you think is valuable
When its only defined by a brand and a tag....
(Pause)
Just like you

(Slow again, saddened)
Thats all you are now...
Thats all you've become....
A part of material sold in the this painful world,
Only to be thrown out after usage, and replaced

The rough edges are gone,
Sanded down by society as it tries to make you a replica to place on the shelves
But the scratches are still underneath

The scratches made from the time you were young
From when you didn't care,
About your look...
About your hair....
What you eat....
What you wear...

From the time when you breathed in real air,
Instead of the smoke you now live on,
From the time when you tasted freedom,
Instead of tasting restriction,
From the time you actually listened,
Instead of talking like you do now

Its now all a blur,
From that you'll now deter
From the truth at hand,
To stay in the bliss of ignorance that lies cradle you in

Rocking you back and forth
Back forth
Back forth
Tick tock
Tick tock
Time goes on and it always will now that it haunts you

But remember the scratches,
Those imperfections still hold your childhood
they'll always be there
They always have been
And they'll always remind you of who you were
Of who you really are