When I Was Three

I'm thinking that life's a joke,
And that it's a nightmare
Of a three year-old.
I apologise for being silly,
Tossing diamonds into drains.
They reflect the light and hurt my eyes.
But I am already marred,
Scarred by knowledge that cut deep.
And I only want to dream like a three year-old again.
Seeing perfection in all when awake.
Dreaming the way kids do, when I go to bed.
Flying a plane,
Driving a tank,
Clinging on to my mother's hands.
But I'm eighteen,
On the nether side of the moving screen,
Which I struggle to keep up with.
I guess I still plodder about
Like a three year-old.
Lost, confused, inept.