Tristan Robert Lange

All Growed Up

We are toddlers with adult teeth.
Nothing can truly satiate our hunger

For more—our consumption is our demise.

Tantrums thrown by tempers forged

In the furnace of rapaciousness,

There is no end to our wantonness.

Puerility mixed with willful senility,

Our reality is beyond all sane reason;

Truth transcends the hope we preach.

We are toddlers forever adulting,

Teething with our mouths of decay.
We shake our rattles with petulance,

And we claim we are all growed up.