Thoughts, Never Words. (Poetry Collection)

19.

As of September, I will be 19 years old.
Still not yet an adult at heart,
Yet not a child either,
My mind so full of knowledge,
That it hurts.
Oh, what I wouldn't give
To be 6 years old again,
Knees scratched up and dirty,
With blisters on my delicate heals
Yet fingers still grasping for branches
On old trees that beg to be climbed.
What I wouldn't give
For childlike nievity.

I am almost 19,
And all I have to show for myself
Is a path carved into the ashes of
My childhood,
A path carved in my own self-destruction.