Isn't it strange?
How the world pretends, all the way—
Everyone's childhood, dreamy, tender, full of love.
But somewhere, somehow, we changed?
We grew up…
Grew up with stereotypes.
Grew up to be "mature."
Grew up to sacrifice.
Grew up to never return to our inner child.
Grew up to stop hanging out carefree.
Grew up to lose people.
Grew up to face the harsh glare of reality.
Grew up just to become—something.
But in becoming something,
didn't we forget what it meant to be everything?
Lucky are the ones who could still be the one.
But what about the ones like me—left somewhere in between?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem