Lament For Innocence

a poem I wrote a long time ago.

Lament For Innocence

Some of us are born into a seemingly perfect mold,

Where we never go hungry, nor ever feel the cold.

Where we have no required tasks,

We just lay there and watch time pass.

But as we get older, we grow and we change,

The values we knew all get rearranged.

The child inside us slowly curls up and dies,

Yet we remain ignorant to its pitiful cries.

Our minds grow darker, our heart grows cold,

Our soul grows black with hate.

Innocence is now dead and withered,

For this is the world's fate.