When I was young I could write
Writing was all too simple
I only knew few words, but my work was crystal clear
When I was young I wasnt worried about my hair or the clothes that adorned my body
I was just worried about who would win my favorite board game
My mind was clear of war and crime, all that mattered was my brand new stuff animal
My crayola box was often empty because I dared to imagine a world with talking animals and such
I know better now
When I was young the day seemed longer to play around the house
Money didnt matter much to me because my mother could buy me anything
When I was young in elementary school, learning seemed so much fun
There was always something new
No one judged how I wrote and spoke while giving it an ugly letter
Or maybe they did, but who cared when the lunch ladys was giving all the 4th graders ice cream
but why is it that now that I am older and I have learned new words, that I can not write
I would tell this paper how I feel, but I cant because someone might be looking over my shoulder
Or worse give me the wrong letter on my assignment
I wish I was young again, so that I could write