Who. Broke. You. This Bad?

Who told you,
That you can’t colour your bananas pink,
And horses can’t fly?

Who made you settle,
For the rooftops,
While aiming for the stars,
Made you relax the will on your slingshot?

Who dwindled the twinkle in your eyes?
Your petty wonders at the littlest things,
The appreciative lenses with which you view the world,
The whole magic of living.

Who told you,
You needed to be more,
You were not enough,
Made you turn into a self loathing machine?

Made you see the world in broken, distorted glasses.
All sick and twisted
Deriving pleasure in pain
Of others and self inflicted

What happened to that kid?
That was giggly and bright
Bringing sparkle and glimmer
To every room,
Who told you,
That you should leave dreams for sleeping?

Who made you feel less?
Who made you wanted more?
Who made you insatiably hungry?
Who made you chase highs?
Who made you see the beauty in brokenness?
Who tipped you over the edge?
Who. Broke. You. This. Bad?

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