Staying Young

Fri, 01/03/2014 - 11:14 -- beckgrd

Growing up ain't as fun as you think

No one can prepare you for the

Zits, quips, stink of uncertainty

The fog that overtakes, blinds, defines you

Picks you up and clouds your judgment,

Carries you through phases,

Stages of tight black jeans, neon highlights,

Knife fights, thick eyeliner, shy remarks

Throws you down in bitter dusty defeat,

Where you eventually contemplate

What you've been doing as of late

And ask yourself,

WHAT was I thinking when I went out in public like that?

But you move on, spectrums shift,

Grow surer, ensure your fate amongst 

Those you deem as your own,

All the while seeking refuge in

The sweet nectar of future's promise

Meanwhile enduring doubt, days misery-tinged, daily cataclysms

Rattling foundations already weakened

Until one day you're so broken

You find refuge in your own soul.

That's growing up,

Sewing up your new self

Finalizing, materializing, realizing

Who you are supposed to be, but

Growing up ain't as fun as you think.

New bones splinter through old skin,

Molting, it's revolting

Who some of you have become.

And no one told us

The decay we'd feel, the dismay we'd

Reel from

No one mentioned 

the has-beens,

the used-to-bes,

the no-mores,

the never-again-will-bes.

No one told me when you turn 18

You get a can of pepper spray and a ticket to the gynecologist.

No one told me that you have to decide

Who you're gonna be, gonna sleep with

Who you'll reject and subject to

Small pieces of your soul, loosening in evening lights.

But I still frequent playgrounds, swingsets,

Sunsets, soaring skyward,

Still somewhat childlike.

My vision is sharpened by adulthood but

That doesn't mean it can't be

Softened by shards of childhood

Because for now,

I can still catch them on my teenage tongue.

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