lonelynature

I want to go back to that simpler time,

Where we ran through fields and played in dirt,

When we had an abundance of freedom, a million open moments,

When you were a kid,

When you were still learning animal names,

And awed by the world around you,

What did it mean when you looked up,

At other kids, at adults,

Burned at the stake for all to see.

Boo! Scream the crowds, words full of glee.

Smiles lit up the kids faces as they stared at me,

While the witches cried out for a flicker of mercy.

So monarchies fell,

And tyrants too,

Whether democracy does,

Is not up to you.

You might want to be a fly on the wall,

Discover what people really think,

What people say when you’re not around.

You don’t want to be a bug on the windshield,

A story you're told about once every year,

Details increase as you're judged old enough.

Then one year it stops, the story as sparse as it can be,