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He is smaller than me. He is younger than me. He knows less than me.
But I can’t help but wish I was him.
Why, you may ask.
It’s because of his freedom.
He can yell and scream, and all he gets is a scolding.
He can cry, smile, and laugh at anytime, and he gets hugs and kisses.
If I ever was to yell and scream, I would get a dirty finger pointed at me from society.
If I cried, smiled, and laughed at anytime, it would always be at the wrong time.
The older we get the more we turn into machines.
The few who don’t become machines still turn heartless.