When I was Young

When I was young I learned of two roads
in a wood I did not believe to be yellow,
for it was a coward’s color, made of caution and weariness.
But I was put before the roads, and made to choose.
Until I plowed forward, creating a third.

When I was young, I was told of two boys.
One on a raft, the other painting a fence;
and with these boys I was told to learn a lesson,
about friendship, truth, and hard work, all found in adventure.
But it was then I realized that I did not like boys,
I just wanted to be like them, and learned of jealousy instead.

When I was young I was full of wonder,
and was told to turn my questions to adults.
But then words, meant to be truths, shifted in my eyes,
and a disillusionment settled over the magic of my youth.
Adults had stolen the wonder, until I learned
to make my own magic, no matter how uncouth it was viewed.

When I was young I was taught of mice and men,
and lost the ability to tell the difference.
Yet from it I learned what loyalty meant,
when doing what was right, wasn’t doing what was right,
and I had begun to understand only fools tried to own judgment.

When I was young, I was told of love.
Given fairy-tales and queens, mystics, and a dream.
And in it I was told to protect love with all that I had,
but I never could figure the difference between the thought,
and the feeling…until both were ripped from untimely wounds
and all I was left with was a memory of something I never knew.

When I was young, and terrified, and lost in the waves
that seemed to go on forever, but were never truly the same.
I would look out into this world, conflicted in hope and shame,
and wonder what was the purpose, who do I blame for the lots
we inflict upon each other. Who realizes our mistakes and tries to fix
what is broken or lame? Who? You? Who?

When I was young, I discovered the mirror,
and saw what was needed to be seen.
I didn’t like it one bit, and the stories died on lips
that tore in-between worrying teeth bound in metal.
I discovered it all when I was young, and stayed silent,
waiting for an absolution that didn’t come.