ten years from now, i see myself
wanting to be 19 again.
missing how sad it is to live
in this body.
missing how free she is
to do nothing.
because i think, ten years from now,
i’ll be forced to make a living
and feed myself
and probably a kid that i adopted
after seeing it on the street.
or maybe ten years from now,
i’m still the reason of my mother’s
headaches
because i still don’t know how to listen
to her especially when she’s talking
about the effects of staying up late
at night (she doesn’t know
that that’s the only time of the day
when i can peacefully write).
ten years from now,
i think i’m already dead
and probably came back to earth as
someone new.
and if i am not a poet that time,
i’d definitely hate existing.
i’d love to take a short glance at
myself ten years from now,
so that i will be sure that
these things, these obstacles in front of me
are leading me somewhere, and that
i have nothing to worry about.
because i often doubt being anywhere
even if i’m sure that i will give
and sacrifice
everything that i have
just to reach that point.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
