NEXT YEAR
next year is a whisper
on the horizon;
out of reach, out of earshot,
too surreal to imagine
but it's written all in
uppercase, bold, and it screams
from the paper, punctuated by
a string of invisible question marks
no longer secured in the safety net
of adolescence, set loose into the world
with basic knowledge: how to ride a bike,
howto drive a car, how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide,
but what does it help?
what does it help when there's a largely uncharted
world waiting to be explored? when there's anxiety,
and fear, and a lack of confidence to hold one back from exploring it?
when there are so many options, but none of them appeal?
it does not help, and that's the thing;
we're unleashed into adulthood, equipped with nothing more than a
flimsy sword, swinging blindly but making no contact
soldiers fighting with no cause, burning embers that never
grow into flames, caterpillars that have not completely
broken free from their cocoons; we are foolish, and naive,
frightened of a world we know little about
what i am to do, they ask,
but how do i answer a question i can't even comprehend?
NEXT YEAR is not real, it can't be, not when it makes my
head spin and my stomach twist and my brain explode
it cannot be
it cannot be
it cannot be
but it is
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
NEXT YEAR
next year is a whisper
on the horizon;
out of reach, out of earshot,
too surreal to imagine
but it's written all in
uppercase, bold, and it screams
from the paper, punctuated by
a string of invisible question marks
no longer secured in the safety net
of adolescence, set loose into the world
with basic knowledge: how to ride a bike,
howto drive a car, how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide,
but what does it help?
what does it help when there's a largely uncharted
world waiting to be explored? when there's anxiety,
and fear, and a lack of confidence to hold one back from exploring it?
when there are so many options, but none of them appeal?
it does not help, and that's the thing;
we're unleashed into adulthood, equipped with nothing more than a
flimsy sword, swinging blindly but making no contact
soldiers fighting with no cause, burning embers that never
grow into flames, caterpillars that have not completely
broken free from their cocoons; we are foolish, and naive,
frightened of a world we know little about
what i am to do, they ask,
but how do i answer a question i can't even comprehend?
NEXT YEAR is not real, it can't be, not when it makes my
head spin and my stomach twist and my brain explode
it cannot be
it cannot be
it cannot be
but it is
