Of All Things

Of Childhood

We all get to a point where we ask ourselves
'Would the child I was before be happy with how I turned out?'

Then I see her
She's so innocent.
Her eyes glint with happiness
And she looks at me.

What does she see?
Does she see me?
Does she see something else?
Is this what she wants?

Why is she still smiling?
Isn't she mad?
Why is she even here?
She's supposed to be out there.

She's supposed to be gone.

Would she run away if she knew what I did?
Would she shout at me?
Could she forgive me?
Why would she?

Am I enough for myself?
I don't know.
I don't think so
I know I'm not.

Why is she still staring?
Doesn't she hate me?
She's frowning.
I bet she knows.

Why is she coming up to me?
Ow, yeah, I deserved that kick.
Shouting, that's fair.
Wait, crying?

I kneel down to see her eye to eye.
She's still shouting and crying.
Asking me why I keep hating myself.
Asking why I can't just let myself be.

Of course she's saying that.
I used to be so innocent.
I used to be so blindly kind.
Where did that go?

Of course I'm crying now.
I'm so sorry.
I'm so so sorry that you turned out like this.
I'll get better okay?
So that you don't cry so much.