The Undeniable Age

Ah, age 17...your body knows itself but doesn’t.

The revolution is finally here, but it has yet to make change

And all the world’s theater is closing its curtains.

Where are the lost dreams, individual? How have you grown, my dear humanity?

All the questions and more, to what answers avail.

Through drives back home, and long drawn out messages I still think of you when the world does not burn but drown. And I remember lost innocence like shoe lost from its pair.

How often is our authenticity plural? Or how often it isn’t?

From where will I learn that with all good things there is in an equal part in bad. But in actuality there is neither good nor bad, there is only an experience and an action.

My age 17 included the loss of three people, the loss of feeling full, the loss of staying awake, the loss of innocence.

I grab the air around me as if it were my last, and we all do the same with our love, understanding, our everything.

My words remind me of dresses on sale, to be so beautiful and yet so cheap. It couldn’t be true. And sometimes it’s not, and sometimes it is. I try to never look for anything serious, because I know seriousness can be a handicap, just like the truth.

Once I asked myself where will I go? And I still ask myself that question for the truth is, and like all the questions in the world, they will truly never be answered.