I think some bad poetry would go very well with the Total Eclipse of the Heart video, don’t you?

Both the title AND the text were in Monotype Corsiva for this one: Emo Alert.

Also, 2008 Melle would like to tell late 80s/early 90s Melle: “Shit, bitch. You don’t know nuthin’ ’bout bein’ a grownup. Cripes, you were 15 years away from even remotely having a clue. But thanks fer comin’ out.”

You Are Here

When does childhood end?
When walls go up that can’t be climbed, or flown over, or seen through
When do we lose the meaning in everything, and nothing, and have to search for it?
We try to keep things wrapped in innocence as long as we can
At least some of us
Cover their ears, turn their faces away
Are hugs an, “I love you”, or a barrier?
We don’t want our little knowledge to trickle through, for indeed it is dangerous, confusing, painful
Love-hate-want-happy-sad-mad, are all colourful blocks
Jealousy-lust-greed-fear-envy-rage-horror-desperation-devastation-ecstasy, these are bricks
Gimme is met with take a number
In youth we run headlong towards the Garden Gate
In age we pound the bars, rattle the chains
When do we become so faded, so tired?
At what moment do we run out of energy to keep holding up the shield?
The stork flies away, the goldfish dies, and we may relegate happy ever after to the back page
Definitions change. Kissing tag or harassment?
Seeing the light can burn the eyes
Blinders keep us from being afraid
We’d do anything to keep from being the scaredy-cat
Weakness?
Children don’t feel alone in a crowd
Whose idea was it that we can’t all be friends?
Do we ever find out why?
Make believe is life without the calluses
Who decides when it’s time to open the gate?
How do some manage to hide and play among the fruit trees a little longer?
Grown up means you can’t fly away anymore
After all, there are noses to be wiped, lunches to pack, and laundry to fold
After all, there’s an early meeting tomorrow, and somebody has to drive the baby-sitter home
Somebody has to call the plumber, feed the dog, keep the dentist appointments
Somebody has to explain where babies come from, if hamsters go to Heaven,
and why Mommy and Daddy don’t live together anymore
Children are the true humans, for theirs is the kingdom of id
Desire-cry-receive, it’s very efficient
We make appointments and wait
When do we stop trusting?
Big Bird and Polkaroo are just guys in suits
Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy stop waving through the bars and just walk away
When do we stop asking why? When does just because qualify as an acceptable answer?
Why do we start believing we have no right to want to know everything?
We know fire burns, and that falling can hurt like hell, and knocks us senseless for a while
When do we become so afraid to admit we were wrong and why is it so hard to say sorry?
What hurts us so badly, and when did lashing out ever bring peace?
Do unto others, but only after you have done unto yourself
We fear imagination because we cannot legislate around it
Admit it — world peace can be achieved with Crayolas,
debts can be wiped out with milk money,
the environment can be repaired and saved with red yearn, scotch tape, and silly putty
and the ultimate alternative fuel source is milk and cookies
Don’t believe me? How do you know?
Want to help build a fort in the Tree of Knowledge?
Children can’t appreciate Michelangelo or Mozart
How do you know? Marble is no better for sculpting than play-dough
Is there life after public school?
Sure, but is the meaning really a driver’s license, a 9 to 5, and a few beers with the boys?
Is the love of your life the one with the ring on their finger?
You puppy Spot, your favourite doll, your imaginary friend George — that’s love
We think now is better — we’ve forgotten what came before
Is sex really a better experience than being born, learning to walk,
or winning a really great snowball fight?
If you find someone who remembers, let me know
Who is the boss of you?
Who is they?
So they ban us from their Edens?
Or do we lock the gate at our own backs with our own keys?
Do they say where Eden ends, or have we just been misreading the “You Are Here” sign?

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