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A Part, Lost

To be young; innocent
our heart’s guilty desire
even those of us,
with not even twenty years,
we no longer have it.
corruption runs through our veins,
liquid fire,
cool as ice,
making our larger-than-life heart pound,
louder than a beating tympany.
Our purity was lost,
often the minute we walked into the prison-
pardon, school-
where we were forced,
among other things,
to conform.
Life should be so simple,
as to let us regain its trust;
for those of us reading,
often times,
you realize what you have lost too late
only now the pain sinks into your gut,
an angry throb,
as you mourn the treasure,
unknowingly stolen.~



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