Loss

There are semblances of THAT poem from the Perks of Being a Wallflower here, but that was not the goal at all.

Loss
By: Shadoe Lass

Remember, at the start, when you were three,
you could fly, and be an astronaut; there's a cat in the tree.
Mommy and Daddy called Santa and Grandma,
and everyone laughed when you sang.
You had so many friends, and you all played pretend,
and you made promises that of course you would keep.

Now the day you turned seven, you knew,
you're on the ground, but a pilot, and the cat is on the ground too.
Mommy and Daddy fired the Tooth Fairy, but not Granny,
and you have some new songs in your repertoire.
Now you know who's your friend, because time and again,
they step up to help you tell you you're on their team.

Reaching 16, you wonder,
will we ever fly, or just kill them at work? They cover kitten's stone.
Mom and Dad never told ya, you found out from Grandma, rest her soul,
there is no Santa, he's fake, and you have no music talent, or taste.
With spirits broken, you return to those friends,
who still turn to you, the last one, two, three.

Why even bother, at 28,
even think about flying, stuck at your desk; your meeting, you're late!
Mom and Dad you never call, and Grandma doesn't cross your mind at all,
but at least you have music, don't lose it when you are swamped by work.
Those friends, so few and far between,
you are almost always too busy to see.
Maybe it's over, the life that never was...a loss.