Too many hangars in the closet

A clutter of confusion

Too little rectitude to hold

a moral absolute

Too much distinction to relate to them

Irresolutions we contemplate with no end

In this world of give and take

And what we refer to as maturity

from emotional need to technology

has you, a cultured seed of your society,

lacking ability to feel clemency

I'm surprized we still

bleed into the abyss of despair

that's hiding the child

Compassion you would not dare

admit to have experienced

Do you regret looking back?

A penitent confessing his sins

The child inside of me recalls a time of purity,

an outlook of release

You remember

Confident that you were able

A future laid out on your table

Running through memories

a child is free

The world restored you see

I see

The child inside of me