“Are you okay?”

Sweetheart, I write poetry
And some kindhearted people said I write it well
…
That can only mean one thing
My mind is an unescapable hell

“Yeah, just tired”

I don’t have the 𝗘𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗴𝘆
I don’t have the 𝗧𝗶𝗺𝗲
But you’re so young, you’re at your prime

It will fly right before your eyes
What’s next?
Soon you’ll say I don't have the 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗱

dim approaches
requiring ceremony
in the ancient ways and...
memories of civilization
the master
of us, his slaves
to worship his belief
the egodeaths
confounding books
neither finding nor forwarding the mark
book ended
in ireland
or china
the point
is that, behind you
your kingdom is full of dead you's

the cost of your suicides
that you would against them
learn only from yourselfish

your selfish childish fun

Where am I runnin' to,
Where is this world comin' to,
What kinda bangs am I jumpin' to,
What doors will I be bustin' through,
Be good cause I'll be trustin' you,
What burning bridges will I be duckin' through,
Who will I be becomin' into in the future to come?

Humbled, yes, a child
-a way of being
led by the hand.