Coping with the loss of Preadolescence

I wish I had something better to write I wish I’d mold the perfect gold for you to hold And hug so tight Wish I could go back to the days when we were both young Hold the hands of my parents and the house that I was from Prick a wall and take some bricks Stick it all into my lips and kiss my hands and Make this poem from those homey fingertips So when you’re lonely and you’re sick And life is full of pointy sticks Only read it for a lick And miss, you’d be so full of bliss But I’m too human, life’s a hiss See-saw ‘tween which one’s more sick But tock and tick, my clocks and bricks Disintegrate into the mist Oceans of what I had missed Lists I’ve sailed, men I’ve dismissed Teeter totter, but I’m too old From cruising gold to grasping mold But time is truth and truth is power True, our youth is dying every hour But truth can help us live the future And tears of cries wet dying flowers I couldn’t mold the perfect gold I couldn’t write a perfect sight But if time can light this blighted world It brings to sight great stories untold Without any gems or perfect gold The world remains so beautiful All and all From spring to fall And spring to fall Forever on