I am an old soul
I never asked for explorers to progress
I never asked for inventors to invent
I never asked for science to discover or scholars to detect
I never asked to go from Steamers to engines
I never wanted to trade vinyl for headphones

But I’d always trade city lights for a mountain range
A worn out skyline for an open plane

Why do we complicate our lives in attempt to make them simple?
And why has living simply, become to most something trivial

I am raptured in this soul that refuses to age
In times that are always persistent to change

"Old Soul" -JP

I am not a
perfect being.*
Flaws,
and imperfections
weave the
canvas of
my skin.
The scars that
mark my body,
tell a story of
where I've been,
who I've loved,
and who's loved
me in return.