Perspective and Growing.

I remember when my world was small
and I was small
and sidewalks dictated where I could walk
and my parents car
or the school bus told me
how far I could go.
I remember when things were simple
even though they were hard
and things were honest, even
though it they were founded
on versions of the truth
that aren’t really true.

I remember when my world
was small and I was bigger, and I
didn’t care
that I didn’t know
and my parents car
told me where I could go and
I decided walking took too long.
I remember when things were complicated
even though they were simple
and nothing was honest,
even the simplest of truths.

I live where my world is so large
I cannot fathom its borders
and I am so small compared to it.
Where my car tells me where to go
but my imagination tells me to go
farther.
Where walking matters and running
matters and crawling
matters, depending on the situation.
Where I am trying to figure out what
is honest and simple
from what is a complex lie and
everything is twisted.
Twisted,
yet exciting and nothing is
the truth,
or everything is.

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