We all grow up— albeit a little slow
We'll all grow up—isn't it nice to know?
Little boys and girls beget cooties
They scream and run around
They lie about their feelings
They make disgusted sounds
Young girls and boys they're no better
They hide they sneak they devise
They come up with sad stories
To disguise their little lies
Teens they are horrid
Hateful little beings
They worry about the pains
Of which they have no grasp
They make attempts at love
Though few and far between
But the reality of love
Is something they haven't seen
Young men are monsters
They harbor narrow thoughts
Young women are no better
They taste of drama thick
I'm getting tired of waiting and patience makes me sick
I know those that lie
And cheat
And beg
And steal
I know those that struggle for almost every meal
That have fought to get food upon the table for hungry little kids
While those that should support them have wasted money doing meth and making bids
So maybe it's not true
Maybe some of us are stuck the way we are
Maybe we don't all grow up —we're all just a little slow
What if we're all fucking idiots— isn't that nice to know?
YOU ARE READING
Papercut Souls
Poetry~My hearts sick and bruised My souls paper thin You can make me bleed with just a flick of my skin~ This ones a blast. That much I know... but I wrote it... So who am I to say so? With love, David Yager
