When I turned 15, my mittens were lost.
They were left in a place where mittens can not be found.
My mittens shed a desired sense of security and warmth,
but they restraint from freedom and progression.
When I turned 15, this comfort was lost,
and left in a place where mittens can not be found.
This place of serenity controls innocence and innocuousness.
This place known for it’s simplicity steals ignorance and insurance.
When I turned 15 this is the place was where my mittens were lost.
This place of reliance releases responsibility and resolution.
This place is a sanctuary that unleashes long sought freedom.
I was warned I would lose my mittens one day… if I held them liberally,
so I grasped them tight, so tight, and tighter every year,
Clenching them so close as if they were a part of me.
When I turned 15, my mittens were lost.