There is a crushing vulnerability, weighing on my lungs. My youth is obvious in my words, my idealistic views, my poetry. I write and hope and dream and wish for a one day, that's far away, better than this. School drawing to a close, days rushing by my ears, I lose touch with all I feel. I devour as much knowledge as I can; letting sentences sink into my skin, over-analyzing everything. Craving the touch of those I love, friends and lovers alike. The future claws it's way into my eyes, daring me to be brave. My arms span above me, like wings, stretching, wishing for a break. I write essay after essay; each devoid of my aspiring voice.. I'm taking on the world, one step at a time, desiring to make it my own. As I rotate on this ginormous blue sphere, my youth begins to show. It surrounds me, a soft warm glow; reality cannot touch me. I am a youthberry, bursting with joy.