In A Child's World

We live alone.
Imprisoned inside a world of freedom.

Now, where do we go from here?

No one could reach him.
No one could understand him.
Many psychiatrists thought he was crazy.
Many others thought he was something more.

The child care agency created a version of a world just for him.
He had a different vision in mind.

He stared at the wall for hours.
He fidget with his hands and feet.
He wrote in books.
He "fiddled" for images.
He talked to himself.
He was sensitive to loud noises.
He wanted to be by himself.
He was laughed at by the older people.

I had received a call from the child care agency. It seemed that my foster parents had died.
"Sir, we have to confirm your identification with our records. We have changed management, and it will have to take some time."

I know who I am.

I look at this world - this world I created long before I was born.
Is it personal, or just business?
Personally, I think your cost of living is killing me.
The agency was in its usual state of confusion.

I just want people to understand me.

While at the agency, a young boy was lying down, his legs nervously shaking.
They were taking him away...
I looked at him.
He looked at me.

I've never been with a kid before, but I had some time.
We walk out and meet each other.
Innocence and maturity, side by side.

We are none the wiser.

At lunch, we ordered the same things.
How do you approach innocence?

We went to the same places and enjoyed them.
How do you hold it? Understand it?

Especially after you have lived through it and infected it.

"Hey! What's your name?," I asked.
The boy just bowed his head and mumbled.

He trusts people to a fault, and expects them to know.
He looked around, taking everything in.
He did what he was told, not because I said so, but because he wanted to please me.
"My mom said always be the brightest star," he said.
I can remember now.
"Do you know the difference between right and wrong?"

He's a good boy, he wants to do what's right.
He's afraid of the dark, so I keep on the light.
He turned to me and said, "I just want people to like me."

The agency was not far behind.
I went to look for the boy to his room, upstairs.
I saw his room but for an instant.
He slammed the door.
"Please go away. Don't let them find me!"
"I won't hurt you, I promise," I said.

The door opened - everything became so familiar now.
He would be there for me.
I held him close, and gave tears.
"I won't let anyone find you!"

I didn't want to let go, but I knew better.
I then said,
"Why did you send for me?"

"I wanted to see what I was to become."

"No, my child, I want to see just who I am."