You should just walk up to the door now
Go ahead, it’s the only way you can know
They will look at you and see stained surfaces
Only the imagination knows what lies below
You cannot convince a stranger of your past
They nod, wondering how much could be true
Everyone knows we have shaped ourselves
A real friend lets you become someone new
Experience is not how we wish to be judged
Our mistakes prefer the silence of blue deep
There is nothing to see if you forget yourself
Or remember if you see what you can’t keep
A life devoted to becoming duty and toil
You are now where birds gather not fallen
Swaying on swells, limbs and suns setting
And legs swollen with life giving pollen

To be able to prove it to you
Aging is my story
It’s all there
Look it up
Listen to it
You want to know me
I’m right here
And my skin is as clear as my mind

The worst part of it though
Is a young girl will never ask again
“How old are you?”
I know what I said
“How old do you want me to be?”
A rock star moment
Instead my children laugh
Their rolling eyes make me slip

I can cry over Ronson or Farner
I’m not their lover
But I love them
Without fear of who I am
Sometimes I grow far or fast
Even though I'm right next door
But my space mask is on loan
Earning interest in a bank

There is no excess to report
Neither promiscuity or wild intake
I ingest the passing air
And the hopes of my friends
We haven’t given up
I told them not to
**** the feeling of irrelevance
A singers song knows who we are

I am twenty-three and I crave serendipity. I crave the inability to allow minor things to define me. I crave early morning coffee, in-depth conversations, and productivity. I want to create, mold, make, then re-shape my circuitry. I want clarity when it's cloudy and unity when I'm lonely. I want to be sixteen shades of blue in a room of maroon. I want to be curious and cultured. I want no beginning nor end, only middle ground — a wallflower with a wildflower's spirit infinitely abloom. I want to be silly and sappy. Witty and wishful. I want to write saccharine sentiments on mirrors in cheap lipstick and surround myself with inspiring oddities. I want scavenger hunts, a marathon of documentaries, a collection of melancholy melodies, and crisp hikes through forests talking with the trees. I want fog in the dead of night and your warmth till first morning's light.

I am twenty-four (soon to be) and I want to be unafraid.

The internal clock winds down another year
Time keeps going by faster i fear
How much longer am i supposed to be here
That's not up for me to decide
Or is it
Who knows anymore
Certainly not me
Counted my birthdays on five year intervals with my fingers and toes
I've ran out
Twenty one years old still so very concerned with what life is about
I'm wasting time
Or am i
Who knows anymore
Am i still in my youth
What little youth i had
You tend to grow up very fast when self loathing thoughts are all you've ever had
Praying to a god to relieve you of always being so sad
Relative to everything that's happened in the past
I cannot release this hot burning coal
Its not as simple as letting things go