The walls keep creeping on my toes
As children play along the rows
Enclosing all my thought and moods
My claustrophobic attitude.
They think they know their life in bold
Few think that it will be of gold
I think back to my adolescence
And wonder if I grasped the essence.
It's only when I ride this bus
That youngster yells bring me disgust
My life is crammed inside the box
Of children's tales of Goldilocks.
I sit on the rubber bound bench
And think of the wild air whooshing past this body binding vehicle
I want it now.
