Could the blurry whispers of kids
really grow into something so great?

The things I said
when a freshman
a freshman!
Armed with idealism and tough fists
but not a lot of anything else-
they shape me
like a slave whip
cutting my back and making it bleed
places I still can't go
people who I can't handle
so much

It built up
and it pours out my lips
stale and rotten
but strong woven
like a vine that rests on the bottom of the swamp
always waiting to snap