The End of Childhood

I couldn’t wait until I was older

When I could do all I was wanting

But as an adult now that past

Just seems like a haunting

A phantom of the shell,

The hollow person I became.

All that I wanted then,

Would never be the same. 

Toys don’t hold the same value

To someone who pays their bills,

Who can only remain happy,

If they started retaking those pills. 

And all I ever hated then

Was when it was bedtime,

And now I look at reality,

And hate its paradigm.

Kids didn’t know the value of money,

And become the happiest alive,

Adults have the freedom to spend it,

And still struggle to survive.

Life was easier when 

The only ones you would blame,

Was your parents for 

The world’s greatest shame.

The whole need to survive,

Serves absolutely no point

When we are not actually living-

This from a matured viewpoint.

We’re born, we live

We eat and we breathe

We work day after day

Until the day we leave

And at that point

We’re too old to enjoy

Something as simple

As a child’s toy.

But now we’ve got the funds,

To live out our dream,

When no longer really care-

Life’s little wicked scheme. 

And on our deathbed

We think back to childhood,

Wondering why we didn’t enjoy it,

As much as we should.

We are left with a single thought

A hope to understand why:

What was the point of life,

If the only meaning was to die?