I dream of sunlit days, piping hot tea.
The adults were hurrying, I couldn't wait to be them.
To play all day, to feel things.
That's the light that childhood held.
As I sit here, in my cold room,
I can't seem to fathom what went wrong.
Did I just die? Is this someone else?
What happened to the ever green, young soul.
I'm not that old, youth and freedom pulsates in me.
Atleast that's what they say, but I don't know.
We are all just corpses, dressed up as people.
We all die when the sunlit days end.
We walk the earth, when we should be down, under.
Petition to die after the first 12 years.
I shall not stay here for longer, for my inner corpse rots into my disguise of a bleeding fleshed girl.
