while in my head
I'd thought in cages
then sliced through
so many ages
judging, paths we'd walked as rough
forgetting all the plans we'd thought
Discarding all the fun we'd had
as if it was something that's bad
but its not
and never was
it was just part of what we made up
so what?
should there be a problem with that?
imagination's run amuck?
i think not
for we must just stay
outside that box