Child is Gone

There was a time when I could do cartwheels in the sun,
raise my hands up and touch the clouds,
without a worry or fear in mind,
I reached for life and all it's stars.
There was a time when failure was
just a lesson and falling down
meant getting up and trying again.
There was a time when the air was easy to breath
and I could run and run.

Now. . ,
If I did a cartwheel in the sun,
I'd break my neck while burning.
I can't reach for the clouds,
my back hurts.
I worry about everything and everyone.
I fail every day I awake and don't
learn anything from it.
When I fall, I'm stuck there
until someone helps me up again.
Breathing is a chore,
a burnt out lung on tour.
If I run,
even for a moment,
I have to sit for the rest of the day.
I used to be the age of power,
now I'm Ailment's prey.