This Isn't Like Childhood

By
You want to relive childhood,
but you don’t know childhood.

Darkness engulfs the room,
swallowing me whole;
but the darkness
isn’t as evil as you.
The darkness
isn’t as scary as you.

You make me feel
uneasy,
uncomfortable,
unsafe.

You love me?
Why do you love me?
How do you love me?
Do you love me as the snake
loves the mouse? Or
like predator loves prey? Or
Do you really love me?
If you love me—

you know I’m brave
You may frighten me
but don’t you dare
play me like a game,
or use me like some toy.
Are you a child?
You are not a child.
I am the child here.

Light enters the room.
I try to hide myself more,
to get deeper in to the
safe
darkness,
away from you,
away from what you can,
and will, do to me.

You step lightly,
calling my name playfully
like we are playing
Hide-and-go-seek,
but we’re not.
You’re chasing me.
I’m running.
This is not tag.
Are you a child?
You are not a child.
I am the child here.

Go past,
walk past.
You stop right in front of me.
Will today be the day
that you catch me
once and for all?
I dive out of hiding
like there’s a fire
under my a**,
or something.

You grin at me.
We circle one another,
slowly.
Ring around the rosy,
pocket full of posies,
ashes,
ashes,
we
all
fall
down.





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