Youth is wasted on the young
Life on the living
Always imparted by the old
And ghosts unforgiving
Quantify waste
You smunt!
The arch criticism
Of the lacking
What was it?
Did your time run out
Just as you was packing?

She was set to wander
Born to learn
Over many
Lifetimes
Reinventing
Anew
You know?
Like the Highlander
Only this being true
Once Sumerian
Now suburbanite
Holds the knowledge
Of all
She thinks she'll
Get off of this planet
A bit before
The fall.

When the swingball clicks
When the twelfth bell rings
When the landlord
Is tapping his foot
To ask WHY!?!
For the hundredth time
Will serve you
Not one ****
When the birds
Hunker down
And stop singing
All music gone
The pants stop swinging
Look on the bright side
It's a new beginning
To wander unbound
And alone.
Alone.

Like bubbles in a glass of untouched soda water, waiting for eager lips to bring them to life,
My passion shrank and sank with shame beneath the weight of your indifference, fizzling away into oblivion.
The bouquet of roses, I had carefully picked out to greet you,
Lost its fragrance as the aging petals crumbled into dark dust.
Every time I lit a candle, its flickering light became a constant reminder of the lingering question: Why wasn't my light enough?