I am young
Yet I'm unwilling to say that this
Makes me less
My eyes may not have seen the horrors
Of days gone by
But my generation has seen their own
I know
That experience is a ware
Held by the number of years
And wisdom to be bought by days
Yet these are things not necessary
To giving my number of days meaning
What if we measured worth by a number
Our experiences by our friends
Our years spent helping each other
And measured our wisdom
By the tiring work of our hands
What if the whispered compassion
Spoken over broken hearts
And the healing that friendly words
Have brought
Counted more in measuring a man
Than the number of wars he's fought
I know a life is a wonderful thing to share
But ours isn't worth any less
Based on our number of years

Our lips were close, yet never touching
the residue alone became quite addicting....

I stopped fearing the night
When I realized
The darkness was
*Inside me