When I Grow Up

 

I wish life was as simple and complicated as 18

Sweet little thing, unsteady on my feet. 

A mouthful of baby teeth 

I couldn't fix to speak. 
Warm bag of bones, lulled to sleep. 

Tossed around like an infant, 

I wore wisdom and philosophy

like a safety blanket. 

Took myself way too seriously. 

When in reality, my daily conflicts were whether I should wear a crop top or a tee. 

Or how to get that boy to notice me. 

I don't invalidate that girl, it was a difficult time

Plagued by the question, who am I? 

I never ever imagined that having all the answers would leave me unsatisfied

I hold no such notions now. 

Maybe I've outgrown poetry 

and the endless quest for more

I miss the shock of pain, 

the violent ripping of the floor 

from under me. 

I have grown too familiar with misery. 

Once, everything was sharp and raw

But I've been there, seen it all before