While there is nothing nice about being childish,
For it tastes like the worst kind of immature radish,
There is something supremely glorious about being childlike,
This is how to tame all behavior that is misleadingly wild like,
How I miss the purity of childlike innocence,
Without all the human masks of reticence,
For it tastes like the worst kind of immature radish,
There is something supremely glorious about being childlike,
This is how to tame all behavior that is misleadingly wild like,
How I miss the purity of childlike innocence,
Without all the human masks of reticence,
For the child it's all about whatever it takes to truly communicate,
Even though they might finally miscommunicate,
As they show you with their tears,
The pain which fuels their fears,
How I miss the openness in the hugs,
Without the potential for emotional tugs,
Gosh I miss those most honest shrugs,
From all who behave like bed bugs,
I miss the unadulterated innocence from the child,
Not the childish innocence from the adult child.
Brussels © February 2015 afesehngwaHilary
