at fifteen, words hovered wherever i went.
at seventeen, the words appeared only in the darkest places.
at eighteen, it had fizzled out and appeared in a storm.
at twenty, it is all just out of reach.

but that is up to me.

to all the writers i met before,
to the strangers behind the screen,
you nurtured what i had to offer to the world.
at that age, you made my 'hopefully' the reality.

what i hid from everyone, you witnessed.

today, i would grab every word i can until
eventually, they make sense.