Old Toys

when you were younger,
you would sit,
and play for hours,
and not care a bit
But as you grow,
your tastes do change,
and as we know,
we go through pain,
our voices differ,
our eyes refined,
and our mouth,
less defined,
our innocence,
disapears,
and all the beauty,
turns to tears,

Our toys no longer used,
now manipulated,
out play fights no longer fun,
now assult,
Our kisses no longer innocent,
now abuse.
And our poems,
lose their rhyme.

Our eyes are now blunt.