I remember when I was young I saw the lights on my knees of the golden sun
Wither. So from night I aged around Years of a soul to peel apart as Iām found
Singing. Gaze to a wall in its porous decay What four seal away the few mornings awake
Sitting and wasted on me tending my time Dies the mind, ignored, drifting unwashed into prime
Apart order, eyeless, and gluttonous grown And still years pushing faults upon thin root and bone
Based in about the endless same Best lazed between each days soreing name
Forgotten like what else and frightened of Change laid before my slowly keeling tree of love
Or supposed love As I spoke before of: terror comes
I remain as I was And it shades me as I still am and still am I young
from september 21, 2018 poem from the past a day #5 this is a classic young person who doesn't know how to put their trauma into words yet tries their very best to put their trauma into words. it's just a very uncontroversial version of that. nothing weird, mostly intelligible; small wins for my early poetry efforts. cool name, too, huh.