And why am I awake?

If tomorrow is where promises await, 

why can I not wait? 

Impatience grabs me by the throat,

firm gripped like a baseball bat, 

I couldn’t even tell you where I am at.

Because in all seriousness, I feel I’m lost.

I feel I’ve wanted to move past this pregnant pause

but birthright adolescence won’t exhaust

I’m supposed to be past this stage

where every little anger blooms to rage, 

and thoughts remain blanked like a newborn page

I’ve filled notebooks but I have no words.

No more left to share, no quotes, no blurbs.

Just utterances, oohs, ahhs, errs…

Him and hers, and theirs and ours.

Midnight comprises the same lonely hours,

who wants to buy the whithered flowers?

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