Religious Guilt

To live in the shame of our existence
And taking a breath is something to apologize for
I’m grown and still hurt like a child
For the sadness of the places I used to know
The grief of realizing they no longer exist
Maybe I never left our street,
And I’m daydreaming about things
Children don’t have to worry about
In the blueness of the hour
Rearranging my dolls on the pavement
Waiting to be called in for dinner
When World was wonderful before it was wicked
Always petulant at coming back in
I knew I should rage at being told to stop playing.