I was used to a restrained life.
As if I were in bootcamp.
My parents made.
Excellent drill sergeants.
Preparing I and my siblings to battle.
Yet certainly not us versus them.
I arose choosing to cut.
The strings of parentage.
Likened to ripping off a bandaid.
With my freedom won.
I espied how the world gleamed.
Similar to a penny held to the light.
All too soon I caught on.
How dull the world can be.
Somber with a side of cruelty.
And all I can hope to give back.
Is to bring more joy into the world.
Alike to music.
From an ice cream truck.
Attracting children to it's window.
