Like a veracious pack of hungry wolves,
they won’t be satisfied until they kill
and their bellies are full
Sucking the life from my veins
and draining everything but stark reality,
desiring I may never dream again and will end
up just as I feared – an empty, lonely, grown up.
The kind I’d read about as a child,
swearing I’d never become them, but free and wild.
I’d never slide down from the crescent moon,
never quit playing among the stars,
never be deaf enough to not hear the tune
of innocence blaring from my heart.
I’d live outside high above in the tree tops,
above the rules of stoplights and traffic cops,
where fireflies dance and fairies dwell.
With maps to show me where to go,
to find trunks full of treasure,
together with adventure and dream.
I’d kick off my shoes to sleep
wondering what excitement the morning would bring,
but today feel only monotony’s sting
Of life, of love, of living without
the little inner voice, so inclined to shout.
To dance for joy, to ride away on the open seas,
to leap over the kills, to slay dragons on my steed,
to dig for treasure, to dream to fly,
to spend each moment forgetting you’ll die.
The dogs of reason nip at my heels.
I shout commands and blow my whistle,
but it’s too late to yield.