The land of J. M. Barrie,
A place of childhood and freedom,
Is an interesting concept to someone like me.
Thrust into a land of mandatory maturity,
Forced to leave my childish views of life behind,
Forced to accept the dismal world for how it truly is,
I am someone who cynically mocks my own desperate attempts,
To retain the innocence I left behind,
How often have I been as harsh as Alice,
Who chided herself for going down the rabbit hole?
How often do I berate myself for acting,
(How foolish!)
Like a child?
Yet how often have I pondered the irony of wishing,
Naïve child that I was,
To grow up?
How often have I scolded myself for hoping,
Wishing upon star after countless star,
That I was older?
Oh bittersweet irony,
You are as cruel as fate!
I hope that I can one day find Barrie’s Neverland,
That place of childhood and freedom,
Where the only never is what I dread the most,
Growing up.
Maybe there I can find myself again,
And I’ll know peace.