Innocence Lost

Not a lot of commentary on this piece. It sort of just came together when I got home from work today. I was experimenting a bit on this one with repetition of words / phrases, though I didn't realize I was doing it until I was part way through the piece, and then did so intentionally after that.

It started in the first grade

when we learned to swear

on the bus ride into school.

When the word "it" elicited hushed laughter

on the playground.

When we found used condoms on the side of the road

on the way to a sleepover.

When young eyes grew wide in health class

as we soaked up this new knowledge of ourselves.

When we realized just how much life isn't fair,

that our grandparents were getting old and frail,

that our parents didn't have all the answers.

Innocence lost

in a moment,

in every moment.

In all the times we said "I love you"

without knowing what it meant.

In all the times we lied and cheated

to our friends and to ourselves.

In all the times we really saw through

the world we built up in our childhood,

where wars didn't happen outside the playground,

and people were only mean to us because they liked us.

Innocence lost

when we realize that everything won't magically be ok tomorrow,

when we see who really has our backs

and we realize the number is lower than we thought.

When we think we've finally made it through

only to get knocked down again.

When we realize that we are all the things we saw in our parents

that we swore we'd never be,

and we're raising our children

to be just like us.