Round and round the mulberry bush,
A game the children use to play,
Growing up in a big rush,
Time of youth spent fading away,
Instead of enjoying childhood's lush,
Playing outside all day.



Both pockets full of posies,
Filled with goals and dreams,
Second guessing their trophies,
After shooting upstream,
Sprawled out in the rosies,
Caught up in forbidden scheme.

​

Ashes to ashes, they all fall down,
Chasing a future that isn't deemed best,
They all start to hit the ground,
A society they have oppressed,
Nameless and not renown,
An ending best laid to rest.