this inner child

refuses to mature

–

stubborn

ploddingly obtuse

laughably laborious

following the path of most

resistance

–

single child soul

struggling to subsist

in a world so expansive

duplicitous

and grave

–

should youthful ambition

fall to the wayside

in order to make room

for tedium and decorum

–

there are no adults

just large

self-righteous children

and their sense of entitlement

–

dress up and make-believe

sacred rites

of the initiated

and those

joining their ranks

–

uninspired

dead poets

–

often

i find myself reminded of

grade school

–

arbitrary rules and conditions

held in highest esteem

–

maybe

these eternally young

inner children

are the wisest

of us