When We Were Kids

A poem

Every day, the clock ticks on,

a metronome of endless duties and obligations.

In the mirror, he sees the weight of adult life:

bills, deadlines, and the unyielding chains of responsibility.

Yet deep in the marrow of his bones,

there’s a savage whisper: “Fuck it!

Let’s just do drugs, ride the reckless wave

of unburdened joy, if only for a moment.”

The record of his youth plays on repeat,

a broken loop of wild nights and freefalling dreams,

taunting him with memories of when the world

was just a blur of neon lights and unfiltered passion.

But each day, the record is drowned out

by the clatter of obligations, a daily grind

that suffocates that raw, unbridled desire.

He craves that fleeting escape, that silent rebellion

against the relentless tyranny of expectations.

In his heart, a constant battle rages,

the tender longing to shed the skin of responsibility,

to taste the peace and joy of untamed existence,

even if just for one wild, reckless heartbeat.

Yet in this ceaseless loop, the echoes remind him:

the freedom he seeks is always just out of reach,

a ghostly refrain on a broken record,

forever playing a tune of what could have been.