Old Child Poem by Hannah Torres

Why is it the older you get the more hate you have?
When you were a child you found joy in all the little things.
The first snow fall brought happiness.
Playing tag with our friends was our idea of fun.
Kissing our parents goodbye no matter where we were going.
These are the little things that seem to be gone as we grow.
Nobody seems to care about these things anymore.
Trying to grow and gain yet we so often lose more then we gain.
Hating more than loving.
Complaining more than caring.
Hurting more than ever before.
Why can't we have it all?
Why can't we love more?
Why can't we care more?
Maybe we can but who really wants to?