Today I endeavored

to converse with my inner child, and find out how she stayed so alive. I dug so deep and tried and I tried, but no matter what, I couldn't find her. I am not mine, I believe, I've been stolen and changed. What happened to variety I wonder, 'cos every day has become the very same. I have a tendency to volunteer to be a hostage, "take my freedom if you please." Only to regret every second of this time spent so repressed and far too at ease. Too often I wonder where I, myself wandered off to. Maybe somewhere too far to retreive. Maybe sunken so deep into me that I'll never actually be. One day, somehow some way, I'll see the day that I'm able to say "I'm free." But until then I'm silenced and small. Unless of course I've been that way all along. Sunken in and blended with all the rest of the billions of sad, silent people. I just sink deeper and deeper until I'm only someone else's shadow, faded to help them radiate their own light, just feeding off of mine. And in time you'll be beautiful as I once was long ago, before the drought and the loss of everything I'd known. You'll be a supernova, and I'll be your glow.