How horrible it is to grow up. To be trapped in the corner of expectations. And left with no choice. To have no time, even just for one or two lullaby. To be in the system. Seen.
Time flies. Morning coffee, tireless nights. And just like that suddenly it’s the Christmas lights. Then come the fireworks, and alcohol and familiar faces if you’re lucky. Back to the desk. Same old song. Same walls. It always is. All white.
How horrible it is to grow up. To act along with the mundane scenario. To find your role, or change it. Or create it. Depends on the courage you gather.
Sparkles left behind, and forgotten. It’s so quiet with nowhere to go. Unfinished, and perhaps will always be. Until you find the time, if you’re brave enough. To say hi to those innocent eyes once again, eyes filled with hope.
How horrible it is to grow up. But at least, you have me. Always.
