The Youth

Our youth is young and fleeting

Burned on lined papers

Galloping through heavy winds

Like a spring leaf freshly flown

Twisting and darkening

On its way down

 

We set fire to ourselves

Like gasoline doused on a match

Quick and spreading

To forget about the weight

Balancing on our shoulders

 

The time lapses too quickly

Jumping over snapshots of our lives

Click, a laughter

Click, a death

Would it even matter in the end?

 

We grew up too fast

Our bodies stretched tall but our souls stayed behind

In the past, in the present

It attached itself to the moments

When we were happiest

And embedded deep in our hearts

When we were most desperate

This poem is about: 
Me

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