I Never Want To Be Young Again

The other day I was standing around my house.
Nothing really to do, just a boring Autumn day.
The whipping of leaves and sticks against the age tarnished window pane.
The pseudo red glow given off by my electric fireplace.
The gentle whimper of laughing children outside playing in the street.
Playing amongst the traffic of their parental jailers.
Playing as if no one cares to look at them.
Playing as if they are still innocent.
Still naive to the world.
Still simple in thought.
Still young in mind.
I knew one of those children.
He was a friend of mine.
I did not fear that he may be killed out there in the urban playground.
Chewed alive by some carnivorous mechanism of transportation.
It would actually do him some good.
I can already envision it deep within the caverns of my mind.
Those rarely used areas of the brain that are dedicated to harboring dark thoughts.
Harboring the thoughts that should never see the light of day.
That should never be blessed enough to take life.
That should never be second guessed or pondered.
Yet here I was.
Thinking them.
Thinking that he should be struck down.
A young child destroyed before ever having the chance to exist.
The chance to live.
The chance to love.
The chance to learn.
The chance to laugh.
Destroyed before ever understanding what it means to be human.
To be addicted.
To be hated.
To be ridiculed.
To be judged.
To be mocked.
To be scorned.
But that comes later.
For now he is still a small, fragile being.
For now he is still an innocent prepubescent brat.
For now he is still enjoying the simple styles of life that only the young can experience.
Untouched by the ways of the wretched, polluted cesspools of adulthood.
God forbid that our souls might someday be redeemed.
Someday be cleansed.
Someday be forgiven for what we have become.
For now though, I am just a simple man.
Just simply standing in my house on an Autumn day.
Simply staring out at the wisps of my childhood dancing amidst the street.
I never want to be young again.