The Heart of Peter Pan

Last time I checked, I was seven years old.
A year of my life embroiled with gold.

Why did it happen?

I've had another birthday again
But I hadn't planned my life past ten.

My skin should be smooth
I should be reading picture books
Not preoccupied about my looks.

Heaven knows I'd never thought I'd see they day
When I'd look into the mirror and wipe makeup away

Lumps in places that shouldn't be

Like these two things upon my chest
I hate my bras, I miss my vest.

When you're so small, you're never alone
Companionship comes from toys, not boys.

From glue
Crayons
The littlest of joys.

But when further into the past I delve
I remember I hadn't planned life past twelve.

I miss falling over and bumping my knee
And having people rush to me

To bury my face
Into an adults chest
And feel safe.

Now that's a distant dream
From some far off place.

I miss being a child

More than I can ever put into words
Its absurd.

Painful.

I'm not a kid anymore
Eighteen instead
My life's rushed past
I'm almost dead.

I can't grow up, I don't see how

I hadn't planned my life past now.