Childhood

we are a joyous jumble of devastation,
as conscience screams shrilling,
dreadfully dreary derailing,
as bodies plunge in the sea of rumination.

growing up is dehumanizing
a juxtaposition to childhood 
when cheerful scribbles deemed good
turn into scarlet suffering

our once colourful painting,
where the sun was always top left,
and we were untainted and breathing,
holding out our hands yearning as childhood left.

the transition as everything around us changed,
as friendships and playgrounds crumbled,
through the passage of time unbounded,
and we sit helpless waiting for what was never to come.