Child's Play

 We are selfish, unsocialized children,
hidden in grown bodies harboring old, hung up souls.
With hearts nurturing traversed ancient pain,
manifest in the daily exchange of modern offense.
Defined not by shared compassion's breath,
but petty lines drawn in shallow, bitter sand.
Foibles clutched against our chests like first born.
The thought of letting go met with tantrum, contempt;
even with that claimed truly held dear at mortal risk.
Our childish play a quiet war waged without purpose,
where once a boy's love for a girl dies without reason.