The Dark Contrasting The Light.
-It's crazy to say,
How time fades.
In a blink of an eye,
We're grown up already.
We're passed 12,maybe 10;
And it's a shame that I can't go back,
That I won't be able to go back to being a small kid again.
To being 3,4 or 8 years old once again.
Those years were memories;
And I can't get past those memories,
No matter how much I try to not think about them.
For some, even being able to wake up in the morning is a relief.
Others are just waiting until they get too drowsy and sleepy.
It's a conflicting thought:
Sometimes I can't decide on what I want.
Both of them are regretful, but it's not like I have any other options.
It was waking up, or becoming a doll with no opinions.
A doll has no feelings, and no voice,
Just a silent presence, waiting to be adored.
When we grow up, we won't need those anymore, 'cause it's childish right?
They will get thrown away in the dumpster or an attic;
In the cold with no lock pick.
Do they deserve it, though?
To go through all that you put them through?
Maybe we're the dolls, and someone's controlling us all.
For not being able to act on our intrusive thoughts, or to always have a feeling of regret of 'those' thoughts.
It's always: "Your parents will be upset!" or "They will mourn for days!"
But you never know for sure that they'll have the reaction your hoping for.
'How would you know?'
You wouldn't know, you wouldn't be here anymore, and you wouldn't hear anything;
Just an eerie feeling of the tension of the void you're floating in.
You wouldn't see anything.
No light, just darkness,
Not even the bright smiles you received that has turned your life positive.
Just a pitch of black.
You wouldn't see other dead people, you wouldn't see your own hands.
You wouldn't be able to imagine your thoughts, if you would still have access to that feature.
You would be lost, you would always be that doll:
Silent, stoic and dead inside, if not physically.
Type= Free Verse
