I don’t want to grow up

I see a lot of dreams. I see them every night. I find myself fourteen, running across a street towards my mum who is coming from work with bags in her hands may be full of sweets and biscuits. Then I wake up. No sweets, no biscuits. No childhood. No mum.

I don’t want to grow up. I want to run endlessly across that narrow street towards my mum.