Young, wild and free
Youth is a fleeting dream
Only to be rudely awakened at thirty-five
Just to realize that all the pleasures you bought into were
a lie
But I’m twenty-three
Still learning to breathe
Still learning to see myself for I truly am
I guess I’m just like this poem
Free on verses
But revert to rigid rhythms
Just to make people listen
See I did it
But you hardly noticed: guess you weren’t listening
Or reading
But don’t forget
I’m twenty-three
My future still a beautiful dream
Tranquil on the outside but not as calm as it seems
So I guess I am a simile
As and like
Comparisons
Comparing my selves to others
Like teenage boys in adolescence
Till my identity and essence
I got lost in the crowd in an attempt to fit in.
But don’t forget
I’m still twenty-three
With the face, I had since when I was sixteen
And believed that first love, at first sight, meant first and
last
But instead,
First love was the first to go at last
For what it is worth
You said forever, but it didn’t last
But past is past
I’m still twenty-three
Still yet to know what it means to be free
Still, a lot to achieve
But at least I can express myself through poetry
Through metaphors and similes
The art has become an artist.
The storyteller becomes the story
That’s me
At least I’m my own person, not a wannabe
But I am twenty-three
This youth a fleeting dream
So, soon I would be thirty-five
Teaching my kids how to live right
To realize, that the truth is free when you don’t buy lies.
©conversations_47

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