Growing Pains
All hope is lost, for fairytales
Happy endings are only fiction
High pitched whistles drown the bells
Only fools waste pennies, wishing
Dreams were big when we were small
Til we dose do’ed and swapped
Now we’re wise and know it all
The magic, abruptly, stopped
We began an early green
Then a striking red
It seems so very mean
How, gold will leave us dead
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2018
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