I remember when I could write and play. When I would laugh and whine when I ached. Those times I ran and felt the sweet breeze. Back then I'd take things at ease.
Now look at me. Stressed and high. Trying to live wild when my youth has vanished and my freedom hasn't arrived. I'd intoxicate myself with my surroundings if I could. I'm not pure. I never was sure. Ask me if I care, I probably should.
YOU ARE READING
Infinity
PoetryA dazzling view of words. Multiple perspectives of life and my deepest thoughts and feelings. I write to relieve it all. Thanks for reading! ~Highest rank: #102 in poetry~
