The Muse [Poetry]

Entry 8: The Children

Why can't we spread our wings and fly?
Without clutching onto the walls that bind we
Why can't we take a leap from the ground? without falling face flat because of the hold our past has on we...
Jumbled have become the words
In which I refer to as my thoughts
So I stutter even as I write out this words
That have managed to make it out of this storm
A child is what they're called
One who is free from thoughts
One doesn't get affected by events or words
I mean, he or she is is simply a child and nothing more
They can't even tell apart what is right from wrong
So how could they even be hurt? Or be traumatized beyond words
I wish all of those adults could have stepped off of their high horse to see the freezes when there's too much noise
When the child cries at the sound of loud noises
And flinches when anyone attempts to give them a hug
You'll see it in adults who turn into angry machines
Or maybe the one who turns out to be a people pleaser or fawn
You'll see it in the one who seeks academic validation and nothing more
You'll see it all and more
The trail of their blood
Coming from a heart that has been bleeding for way too long
Until the point where the feel numb
Children are smarter than we think
Do not use their age to push them into nothing but a box
And try to silence their voice