during childhood we are indoctrinated, imprinted <br />perhaps unconsciously, with the ideal of <br />adulthood responsibility, and we each build <br />this solid structure, this idea, of what it means <br />to be an adult, or what our adult selves will be - <br />and so as children, we give up our fate <br />to the Gods we call Mother and Father. <br /> <br />now that i have staked my claim in adulthood <br />i often look back - and childhood seems such a solid place: <br />right - wrong, <br />black - white, <br />absolutes dictated by our (then) elders, removing <br />the need for such convoluted thoughts within ourselves. <br /> <br />life was solid, questioning only within our given framework <br />but now <br />life is fleeting, <br />ideas are fleeting, <br />walls flicker with the potential <br />of their non-existence, and dreams <br />take on a reality equal to that reality i have come to know. <br /> <br />so now i descend, <br /> <br />into an increasingly unreal <br /> <br />and unknown space. and i wonder, <br /> <br />perhaps when i reach my golden years <br /> <br />the world will have completely <br /> <br /> <br />deconstructed, dissolved, and i <br /> <br />along with it <br /> <br /> <br />will cease to be.<br /><br />Christopher Withers<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/adult-irreality/
