Well, it's weird.

But I'll try.

Because I didn't have a single freaking clue.

That I'd shoot up.

Alas, the woe.

For I'm no wider than a pole at twenty-two!

You know it's nice.

As I could shuffle through mobs

Like a stream of crystal clear water through all those rocks.

And yet they laughed,

Crammed them coins in my pockets,

Saying I'll drift away with the wind, and soar among the hawks.

I guess they were right, for I'm writing to you,

From the nest, those pretty hawks have dropped me into.

I mean, it's cozy, but I'm about to be made into a bone stew

As I'm no wider than a pole at twenty-two!

When they say, "You were an epitome of peace!"

That you left high school without a scar or a broken eyepiece.

Well they were right, quoteth the word of the cub,

"A stick can never hope to snap or even scratch a club"

But there's a side of this coin,

That tries to come up and shine.

The perks that accompany the curse,

So I can pretend to be gleeful that it's not all for the worse!

For instance,

There are guys.

Who strike off as pregnant when they eat a pack of fries.

Not me, duh.

I'm like a hose.

I'll let a platter pass through before I realize.

Say you're tired.

And see a chair.

But the catch, there's another girl who's cuddled in there.

Well, you'll pass.

Or force her to clear,

Whereas I'll just sweet-talk her and maybe get to share!

So you see, it's probably not that bad.

Except for some people,

who really try to make you feel sad.

But hey, at least you'll get to fly,

as the storm picks up and takes you up so high.

And remember, you can always try to jump the queue (like I do!)

For I'm no wider than a pole at twenty-two!