Lately I have been so bitter,
Like the surprising taste of metallic blood in your mouth when you’re
Not even sure where you’re bleeding from.

It’s hard to imagine age,
If it is relative to wisdom,
Or if that is only a fable, too,
Just as so many things seem to be.

Every day I am expecting myself to look older
Or at least angrier

It is peculiar.

I am not unhappy; not even close.
Yet there is always something pulling at my coattails,
Telling me
“Keep looking –
Keep searching”

Lately I have been so bitter,
I have realized that those I seem to hate the most are
Those who are the most similar to myself.

Lately I have been wondering
What is it I am searching for?