i hear it, loud
the clock ticking
the countdown signalling
the ending of my adolescence.
i'm frantic, wondering
when did eighteen years
pass me by
so obliviously?
i'm not ready to be an adult-
i can't even handle matters of the heart
much less the taxes and bills
demanded by society.
i'm not ready to be an adult
when i can't even argue without crying
or wake up without snoozing my alarm
at least five times in the morning.
i'm not ready to be an adult
because i'm just a little kid inside
all this talk of sex and drugs and alcohol scares me;
if this is adult life, i don't want it.
a day of celebration, but i'll mourn
it's coming for me, and it's ineluctable
even time and tide waits for no man
so who cares if i'm not ready?
15/4
YOU ARE READING
《headspace》
Poetrysometimes, the world gets too much and i can't help but feel inundated. so i cope in a way where the words flow uninhibited and my thoughts run free. this is a graveyard, and herein lies all the things that i can never say aloud. poetry by astoria_...
