Child

Give me your hand, don't you know that street is a trap? Can't you tell by the dark tar and the way the sun glares off it? Why would you want to walk there with all the cars zooming by? Can you not tell those cars are at least six times your size?
Goodness for goodness' sake, put some shoes on. Aren't you concerned about those little piggies? What if a spider comes along? Are you not afraid of getting bitten? Do you realize that your foot would turn blue, and become 4... 100 times their current size? Why are you walking around giggling? Don't those pebbles hurt your feet? Shouldn't there be tears in your big blue eyes, by now?
Or are you unaware? Do you not know what pain is? Has your mother not told you about your mortality? Are you just another child with a tree branch and invincibility?
I can't understand that your answer to that last question is yes, and you stand clueless, unable to answer the rest of them. I can't recall when I was you. My long, curly blonde hair shading me from the truth of the world's dangers. For now I am brunette woman, and I am shaded no longer.
I will try to understand, that my hand you won't be taking. Yet I will never fully grasp that concept, so with my arm extended you will simply serve me a declining smile. Maybe I will push too hard and get a completely fitful "No".

Innocent, stubborn, invinceable, how long do you think you can stay as a
Child?