Find me at 27— still feeling like 23;
pretty free, caught in a pretty fear…
Just a flower afraid to lose pieces of its skin
to the wind; growing— yet gripping tightly.
Thinking of all the work I should be doing—
old skin starts to shed, yet the tools still hang
quietly in that same shed.
My mood is a masterpiece waiting to be written;
the future of my career, ironically involves content
being written… but somehow still left unwritten.
Somewhere between being Christian and missing
what’s written; scripture slipping from a memory
that remembers only when convenient.
Stones unturned—yet still crying out;
and if I stay silent long enough, even rocks
will praise louder than the weight of my doubt.
23 reasons sitting in a 27 mind— with 30
knocking at the door, timing me… like
I’m slowly running out of time.
But struggles don’t age— they stay present;
maybe I’m not that old— just aware of the
seconds I’ve already spent.
No one feels old when standing next to someone
older— “you’re still a baby, my son,” the old man
at the bar said. And for a moment… time
loosened its grip from around my head.
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 4:03 PM UTC
Find me at 27— still feeling like 23;
pretty free, caught in a pretty fear…
Just a flower afraid to lose pieces of its skin
to the wind; growing— yet gripping tightly.
Thinking of all the work I should be doing—
old skin starts to shed, yet the tools still hang
quietly in that same shed.
My mood is a masterpiece waiting to be written;
the future of my career, ironically involves content
being written… but somehow still left unwritten.
Somewhere between being Christian and missing
what’s written; scripture slipping from a memory
that remembers only when convenient.
Stones unturned—yet still crying out;
and if I stay silent long enough, even rocks
will praise louder than the weight of my doubt.
23 reasons sitting in a 27 mind— with 30
knocking at the door, timing me… like
I’m slowly running out of time.
But struggles don’t age— they stay present;
maybe I’m not that old— just aware of the
seconds I’ve already spent.
No one feels old when standing next to someone
older— “you’re still a baby, my son,” the old man
at the bar said. And for a moment… time
loosened its grip from around my head.
A reflective piece on feeling caught between youth and expectation—balancing faith, purpose, and pressure while realizing you’re still in the process of becoming.
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