Why. So. Serious.

I fear growing up, because then, people change.

Change a lot. A lot.

So much that they paint up acrylic ((masks)) of their own desires and plaster it onto their own -ugly- faces.

It has been fashion, ever since, to find -maturity- and dab it onto lips
                                                                                                       
{and smack those glossy lips with s.a.t.i.s.f.a.c.t.i.o.n, letters of praise stringing together}

And then to don a suit of **elegance**--wrapped up in all ~ribbons~

But they often lose their true selves-- which are in fact, h
                                                                        a
                                                                            n
                                                                               g
                                                                                  i
                                                                                    n                                
                                                                                      g by a few
==strands== of childish dreams.

No one ever returns to find them, for they are stuck too     ↓  
                                                                            ↓
                                                                      ┘DEEP┌
 in the masquerade of #perfection#

Goodbye, world.
[where $money$ is more ^important^ than the factors of TxRxUxTxH]

If you wish to look for me, I'll be @t platform ¾