What thoughts I have of you tonight, October,
for I’ve never walked alone the way I ought.
A double-decade drained. Divisive and over,
comprised of people collected,
and characters stolen.

This I know though, what it seems,
More than the changing of my lot,
For this world I can’t imagine,
Has borne far less than what I sought.

Now I stand to face the breeze,                        a chilling wind, a scattershot,
See these leaves in perfect juncture, with their wilting and their rot.
For it’s innocence I’ve lost and it’s innocence I’ll bear
When this age creates misgivings and I can’t help but feel distraught.

Cheeks of flesh turn to cold and replicate these ones
the chips and the dents that summon the reason,
I take this, accept it, a tall child in season,
Twenteen, more than once.

Look at me,
I'm twenty two,
Im still scared of the many things I do.

ranting is foolish now,
aging transforms you somehow.

The old pacifier is replaced with stacks of cigarettes.
the old milk bottle turned into towers of coffee cups.

The bruises in my knee are countless,
from childhood clumsiness,
to mature foolishness.
if my scars would tell you stories,
it would be endless.

here I am,
turning twenty three.
I am way past adolescence,
and walking in the thin line of maturity.

if only a man could see,
what lies ahead in that smoky path.
what a power to have,
what a power to grasp. . .