somehow it always ends up like this,
dreaming of falling without any ground
its as if i don’t know where i started or where
i’m going to end.
its the same old stomach lurching
toe tapping knuckle popping legs swinging
i get although i think i never do have.
like everyone else.
we are running on the road to the end
but things are only beginning –
i’d like to remind us that we’re only
fifteen (or sixteen) –
its too late to turn back and too early to give up now.
the road splits right after the corner
at the beginning of each end;
after glitter throwing and crayon colouring
came a quartet of mostly shading
and today brings pen scratching and essay writing
struggling to keep afloat
in a sea of black and white.
colours, innocent as us
faded into grey as we learnt with pencils
how to blend in, be a part of everything,
erasing ourselves in the process to be correct
people we are living in a monochromatic world.
it is the beginning of the end,
but also the beginning of things to come.
there’s no such thing as ‘enough’
and you and i never will be;
but here’s where things start to count.
our footsteps lighter,
we tumble to the ground
but our hearts singing.
I can, and I will.
i dont even know what im writing its 7am i just got up and this is one hell of a shitty post but hey focus on the bigger picture right?
update at 5.39 pm: actually i think each individual part of this can be expanded to host more substantial scribbles and not this trash but in a way that makes this treasure(!!)
and if you’re wondering i think my first paper went well, thanks for caring