Future's Trick

becomes a notion in the eyes of many,

who have lived their lives of inevitability,

believing their melancholic warnings are welcome,

it is the saggy chins and worn frowns that look back at me,

supposing that we are the same,

and one day we will be.

I look at them as if they were a cliche,

and they see me in that way, too,

their pursed lips open to speak,

“Make the most of it,” they say,

but they never know how.

It wasn’t until an unflavorful realization took place that I felt the absurdity of those words,

when a glance at my bathroom mirror told me a much longer story than I was used to,

this young, energetic boy I had become so familiar with, was taken from me,

and looking back stood a stiff, uncertain young man,

the balancing act of the world was already showing on his face,

and I saw his shock when he realized the future’s trick,

for no matter how much time gives, it will always take more away.

Left with a sense of ungratefulness aching through my bones,

longing for even one last drop of sweet childhood innocence,

‘the most’ that was nailed into my skull, drilled itself down to my heart,

shame washed over my face and I couldn’t believe the ignorance that became of me,

childhood had left in such a hurry,

or rather I did not care to grace it with the attention it needed to stay.

My worry was a blindfold in a dark room,

as I focused more on welcoming the new guest than bidding my old friend adieu,

So much was given, yet absence could only be felt,

Still standing in that mirror, there he was, mocking my emotions,

‘The most’ was meant to be a helpful tool,

but it was no more than a path of bitter betrayal, 

it approached my heart carefully and maliciously,

knowing that now was the perfect time to strike,

every body of guilt I had buried broke free,

and what began a glance became an invasion.

I was frightened by what would be left,

but at the behest of my fear, I looked at the mirror anyway, and saw me in it,

just below our nose was a smirk pleasantly creased.

It was not up to the words that quickly spoiled into oblivion,

for maximization with constant savoring eyes is perfection, thus unattainable,

swelling up in me, this gift bloomed,

it oozed the God-given peace those bitterful, unforgiving souls cry for,

it is not the responsibility of man to predict memory,

but appreciate and accept it for what it is,

this control planted in me was no greater than fool’s gold,

thus the future’s trick was unveiled in all of its gleaming truth,

and my weight was lifted with a mere smile.