if Only like a Child

A while ago I wrote about the pleasure of being a kid. Regularly, I keep returning to the thought of the ‘bondage’ of being grown-up. The pressure of thinking and acting like an adult, the many attachment with being ‘civilized’ and ‘mature’.

Don’t you oft times miss being free to be stupid, or not being non-sensical, politically incorrect, or just being free. I remember those childhood carefree days and being able to let go of attachments and the many burden that we have to succumb to for the sake of being grown.

It’s missing being free:

When I was young
I thought as a child
thoughts of wisdom
that was continually elusive
thoughts of bettered tomorrow
and when I followed blindly
reminiscing wild.

The memories of being a child
thinking like a child,
the acts of a child
the memories of growing
groaning carefree,
thoughts soft, eluding-ly growing…

Adulthood beckons
this feigning of growing responsibilities
and self-esteem
and self-consciousness
built on fervent pursuits of illusion again,
loosing childhood

Thinking of times of genuine childhoods
full minds of timeless eluding of illusions
thoughts of adulthood–painfully
acting in adulthood
the beckoning of which

I’ve fallen into acting like adults
in fervent pursuit of conformity:
everyday, continually thinking
of the eluding thoughts of childhood
the thoughts of being free
being the real self non-conforming
forgoing the constant faking of acts and thoughts of adulthood.

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