I think back to the simpler days.
When I didn't have much to worry about.
When I didn't have to worry about others.
When I just worried about myself.
When I could day dream all day without worrying about tomorrow.
When dreams didn't seem so impossible. When dreaming meant something.
When boys and girls hated each other cause of cooties and character.
When we had bed times stories.
When we expectations in our reach.
When we hated going to bed.
When we were excited to go to school.
When we did our best and that was good enough.
When love was a hug away and good friends were easy to come by.
Back to happier times.
Or at least when I thought it was.
Maybe nostalgia is a dirty lair.
A scammer with a couple shiny coin tricks to trick ya while it picks your pockets.
Maybe it's an beautiful girl with a bad boyfriend history and worse intentions.
Maybe its glamorous and temporary.
Maybe its a fake tattoo.
Maybe its fake.
Maybe it's a pop up book with a shit story.
Maybe it makes you think once upon a time everything was OK.
Maybe it was never ok, or at least OK enough for you.
Maybe there's a reason why you only remember the good times.
Maybe those simpler days weren't simple at all.
YOU ARE READING
A Boy And His Box
شِعرHey! This is my first time doing something like this so sorry if I suck. This is going to be a book mostly filled with poems I write. I'm going to do other things with later ,so of you don't like poetry stick around for some adventures. This book is...
