not my photo…

A poem, found on a box of tea, translated by me…

When I was Younger, the World too, Was Younger

It’d Told Me, of the Most Beautiful Things

Those, Most Disgusting Things

Those Secrets, I Can’t, Comprehend

With My Young Life

not my comic…

As I’d Gotten Older by the Day, the World Became

Quieter, and Quieter

I Didn’t Doubt it One Bit

That, Those Secrets I’d Once Heard

Were What I’d, Come to Have Lost

Throughout My Whole Life

not my sketch…

So, this, is how much growing up would hurt, you were told, the secrets of your lives, and, forced, to keep them all inside, and that, was what stripped you of your childhood innocence, and one day, you wake, to find, that you’re, no longer young on the outside, and you’d wondered to yourself, where, did all those years of innocence go, and the thing about that was, you’d lost it, a very, very, very long time ago…


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