I've heard them say that i am older than i look like
that i'm probably a elderly men on the inside,
with wrinkles on his face
and this warmth and an old person's feeling radiating from his self,
so wise and so sad
the man, who'd let you have his hand
whenever you're scared
or a shoulder that's fits your head only
that soft and spongy one to cry on
and it's like it never get's soaked.
just so kind and so old.
i know what i'm not
even if it's exactly what I'd want
to be
sadly,
my childlike spine is fragile.
i have way too many shoulders even now
and what'll happen with time?..
i want someone to tell me how
to live my life
because so long so far
i feel like I've been messing it up,
tell me what to wear in the mornings
tell me a better way of making coffee
keep me in check
feel the pulse on my neck.
i don't know if i am more
than that thing i look like
i'm just present
i'm here,
looking at our broken belongings. an accident?
i'm not quite sure,
but they are on the floor,
and my piano flew out the window
i need more room for emptiness
now that everything outside is filled with people so sad,
the stand in line
and somehow they have the time.
it's bizarre
what people can keep inside
and i listen wide-eyed.
keep talking.
when the time's right
i will head out
and draw my curtains shut.
and they'll keep on taking.
keep going keep burning.
and I'll drop my head on my chest
flooded lungs, my shirt's wet
then i'll feel me bubble
then I'll nod with compassion
and we'll drink for all your troubles
keep talking.
maybe i am sad
but should i feel bad?
can i just be
roll around in my wild roses, watch my rhymes roam free