When I Was a Kid

I’ve always wondered what could have happened, when I was a kid.
When I was a kid, I was boisterous,
Now careful unless manic,
A maniac,
Bipolar wild-child,
Who knew it would actually be true.

I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut,
but am still mastering the skill.
No one seems to see the importance of my words,
Until I haven’t spoken in a while.
As someone with lots to say, this is difficult.

When I was a kid, I was told to shut up,
That my words weren’t enough.
Now I know the invalidity of that fact.

Every now and again, I break,
Just like when I was a child.
And I cry because my words don’t seem important.
For years, my words were all I had,
Living off poetry, and eating dictionaries trying to survive tough times.