m y y o u t h i s n o t y o u r s
—

Something will bloom too soon;
We do not take control.
There's something planted within us
and it blossoms,
color and fragrance pours,
and soon we are surrounded
by those
who "adore" us.

My, what a tragedy
the bloom of youth proves to be.

Young and naive,
we are plucked from our grounds,
yet to fully be changed.
And so we remain crippled,
in our fragile state.

Young,
And still
oh so
naive.