The blood-red innocence 

of childhood

was ripped away from us like a band-aid

it made us scream like it was the worst pain we'd ever experience.

There was no gentle 

1-2-3

no soft explanation of what was to come

just a quick burst of immense pain,

and with nary a kiss or a hug,

we were sent out into the world.

A big cruel world with agony so much worse than ripping off a band-aid.

The worst part about band-aids

is that they're supposed to help us.

They're supposed to keep us safe from all those nasty infections and viruses.

And they do.

For a time.

Then naivety seems to lose its stick, 

and the band-aid no longer has any use,

so our parents rip it off,

only to find that there was still so much more protection it could have given us,

if only we could have held onto it for a little longer.