Childhood,
filled with dreams and forbiden belief,
in what ever could you could see,
the naughty child,
was not me,
only framed in the love of sisterlyhood,
my time as a child
was short and sour
and i have been thinking about it for an hour
and have come to the conclusion
that wat i know
is only an alusion
of what my mother had wished me to think
and i remember how my gran was now,
but now the thought,
of my childhood is now erased forever,
because i cannot it bear

Laura Venter

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/childhood-55/