Adolescent Trickery

Walking down desolate memory lane,

Where nostalgia should remain,

But somehow there’s no thoughts in sight,

I’ll often wonder where these dreams had gone,

Or if I had any at all.

It gets tiring after a while,

Roaming endlessly in your own mind,

Pondering if you’ve ever lived a life at all,

If your childhood was your own make believe.

I’d preferred the memories where I was happy,

Not numerous bad ones that deep into my hollow body,

Swallowing me into a void of self-destruction,

Ones where I could say I’m proud to be human,

To be alive.

As I grow I realise that life isn’t just full of wasteful hope,

Though it is just a concept of deceit,

We come to terms that a childhood is the only hope we’ve had,

Although it was a false truth.

I’d like to think that one day I’ll live a life without shame and regret,

That one day my life will be worth living,

But maybe that voice in the back of my head is my inner child begging for one last lie.