I look at this blank page.
And wonder where to start.
It wasn't just a stage.
It wasn't just an art.
Before I was a child.
Before I didn't care.
The side effects are mild.
Like aching bones, and new found hair.
I take my place, my rightful place.
The place that I have earned.
My taller shoes, my made up face.
Trying to remember all the things that I learned.
I fell from grace, of course I did.
It happens to all they say.
I ran the wrong, I cried and hid.
I looked the other way.

I look at this filled page.
And wonder where to end.
It was just a stage.
It was just a bend.
I am still a child.
And I still don't care.
I will still get riled.
When at my heart you tear.
I never claimed perfection.
I just claimed human life.
I desired your affection.
But living will suffice