The streets I trod
As an innocent and naive child
Appeared as gold-paved and rosy-hued
And the brilliant light of optimism
Shone on all and everything,
Banishing worrisome dark shadows.
Only now as an adult,
Weary with experience
Does walking those same streets
Reveal their true character.
There are cracks in the pavements
And weeds line the kerbs.
The house windows seem malevolent
Like the eyes of a beast
Indigenous to the Concrete Jungle,
Waiting to pounce and devour
My childhood hopes and dreams.
Shadows are dark and mysterious
Filled with secret snickering and threat
Of unnameable hurt and pain.
The streets of my childhood
Are hardly changed in all the years
I have been maturing into adulthood.
I have changed and found perception.
How I wish to be a child again
And escape this cruel reality:
Rediscover the age of innocence
That once protected me from life.