I remember the days when we used to get high just from feeding off the reflected look in our eyes. Stars at our reach and legs that would never grow tired no matter how rough we thought the road might get. Life was simple. Life made sense. But time would soon begin to wither away the veil that protected our conviction from all the harsh restrictions that the world has in store. Happiness is a picture best portrayed in crayons with all of it's purity and freedom. Empty eyes now chase extinguishing flames- hoping to change and go back to from where we came. I feel so fucking cheated and yet I still smile, for they struggle for inches while I take the mile.