They say that wisdom comes with age
that knowledge slowly worms it's way into your mind
that each day brings forth new ideas, new connections, new moments
that molds your not fully developed brain into a somewhat more stable shape.
I have moved another year forward
now have 22 years under my belt.
22 years of jam packing tidbits and statistics
from places I've never been,
and yet that aged wisdom still escapes me.
I feel as though I have Benjamin Buttoned myself
to a time before I ever existed,
an empty chasm of isolation where asking a question
feels even more difficult than finding an answer.
These pieces of myself are falling away
as easily as my baby teeth fell from my mouth
that metalic taste faded like the edges of a picture
labeled summer '03.
My eyes are crinkled,
lines mark my cheeks whenever I smile,
and my mind is fogged with the things I feel
I don't know.
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 11:09 PM UTC
They say that wisdom comes with age
that knowledge slowly worms it's way into your mind
that each day brings forth new ideas, new connections, new moments
that molds your not fully developed brain into a somewhat more stable shape.
I have moved another year forward
now have 22 years under my belt.
22 years of jam packing tidbits and statistics
from places I've never been,
and yet that aged wisdom still escapes me.
I feel as though I have Benjamin Buttoned myself
to a time before I ever existed,
an empty chasm of isolation where asking a question
feels even more difficult than finding an answer.
These pieces of myself are falling away
as easily as my baby teeth fell from my mouth
that metalic taste faded like the edges of a picture
labeled summer '03.
My eyes are crinkled,
lines mark my cheeks whenever I smile,
and my mind is fogged with the things I feel
I don't know.
How is it possible that I feel I know less than I did before?
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