Yesterday, I felt old.
I felt bitterness
towards the set
of cruel chapters
I've had to scream through
to see
'the light at the end of the tunnel'
I'm nearing the
last half
of my second decade
I can taste…something?
I've looked at my poor face.
This face that should look its age,
but carries the tons
of
bags
as though it belonged to
a single mother of
four…
The four whom she proclaims her love for
out of…honesty?
or expectation?
expectation of the empty chairs
belonging to the audience of her life.
They seem quiet
and nonexistent,
but they get loud
and she can definitely hear them
How they rawr
and curse
at her stumbles
as she tries
to spin and balance
all
four
plates
on sticks
that have been shoved into her soft
two hands…
But, she also
hears the DEAFENING
silence
the quiet, empty applause
when she does so
without
d
r
o
p
p
i
n
g
any!
(sigh)
Yesterday,
I felt old.
tired.
today,
I feel my age.
but,
will you please tell my face that?
my hollow eyes?
my empty laugh?
my blemished face?
my desert feet?
my aching back?
my racing heart?
…that I feel my age
today
at least they're quiet
today
and for today…
(even if it's just for today)
I feel my age.
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