Remembering when you were young,
Playing, hanging out with my cousins, riding bikes, and running,
Thinking about the day when you had so much fun
      that you could not breathe from your lungs.
Free enough to always run away from your problems,
But old enough to write them down on your journal or novels like a heartbeat.
The intense thoughts causes the blood to rush down from your head to feet,
Hoping one day everything can change,
Like raw meat turning into a hard dark concrete that you can rearrange.