A young girl came to you still a child, still free with her heart wild. It seemed all she did was smile. But that wasn't good. She could soar with her heart flying, she was oblivious to the people crying. You forced her to see the people dying, made her feel their pain. The spark that shined bright in her eye couldn't stay, it had to die. You persisted till all her joy was but a sigh, and the child in her was gone. So you kept at it and cut her down, until her smile became a frown. And in front of her you donned a crown. You killed the princess in her. It seemed only yesterday she'd been born but of tomorrow you quickly warn, till for today she mourns. And you turn away. Now an adult before her time, that child looks back and knows your crime. She knows how you killed one in their prime, forced them to grow old. When she'd begun to be a bird you couldn't have that, it was absurd. Being grounded was preferred. So you clipped her wings. To the ground she sadly fell, as if to the bottom of a well. What a woeful story that I tell, one of innocence forgotten. If a heart could be taught to sing, if a bird could be given wings, the Sun could shine and it would be spring, and the light would come back. But what's dead is gone, very rarely is there a second dawn, and once time's moved on, there's never a return. Thus is such when one's grown old, thus is such when a heart grows cold. Never a sight more awful to behold, than a laughless child. Love and laughter go hand in hand against tears and hate they take a stand. Happiness is all they demand, but it has been refused. When lament is seen on a face so young, and sadness is heard but is yet unsung, and the heart has by biting words been stung, love and laughter the only salvation. Laughter is the joyous call of those who haven't yet taken a fall-- of those who still stand tall and grant the world grace. Love is just another song of the heart who can't be wrong. The sound of a will that's strong and stands up for herself. Childhood is not meant to be a time of pain, and joy is not something that's easy to feign. But when it comes that laughter has been slain, there is no hope for love.
Reason for writing:
i already posted an early version of this poem under the
title "innoncence" (it was meant to be "innocence" but i
can't type.) i like this version much better, even though
it was more forced.
Birth sign: Not entered
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