I waited for you by the swing
The oldest among the young
And I think
I am ashamed of my youth
My feet covered the clouds
All the way up, eyes closed
wrangling hands
This is what freedom means
Being mortified
Chasing it nonetheless
Shutting out the world
Pinpointing it to my feet
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 8:48 AM UTC
I waited for you by the swing
The oldest among the young
And I think
I am ashamed of my youth
My feet covered the clouds
All the way up, eyes closed
wrangling hands
This is what freedom means
Being mortified
Chasing it nonetheless
Shutting out the world
Pinpointing it to my feet