Youth's last breath is upon me,
And I can hear the bell toll;
I am alone in the house;
I stare blankly at the wall.
I have a whirlpool of thoughts
Which just will not leave me be.
I look around my bedroom;
Comics, posters, clothes, books. Me.
Eighteen years in the making,
A lifetime of memories,
Mistakes. The thought's quite humbling.
I have a box of old toys;
Guns, trucks, swords. All forgotten.
The days of childish games? Over.
Of repressed hopes, dreams? Begun.
I'll go to school tomorrow
And nothing will have changed.
But it will all be different.