It's my 26th birthday today...and so I'm writing a poem:

Child at Heart

I still like arcades,
Mac & Cheese,
morning cartoons,
playground swings,
climbing trees,
sledding,
and sandboxes.

I like to hang with my friends,
eat peanut butter from the jar,
drink milk from the carton,
stay up late on weekends,
watch squirrels play,
fly kites,
and rockets.

I still stare at the stars,
dream of flying,
get excited about Christmas,
watch Disney movies,
draw with crayons,
ask questions,
annoy.

I still worship my Mom,
wish to grow up,
learn,
imagine,
play,
dream.
innocence.

But I still stay naive,
I still eat too fast,
sit too close to the TV,
don't turn off the lights,
wander away,
run with scissors,
cry.

I still don't appreciate,
starving for attention,
tugging at shirts,
talking out of turn,
concerned about myself,
believing I'm king,
selfish.

Eh...I don't know, I'm too tired to care what I'm posting...it probably sounded better in my head.