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Literature Text
AMONG YOU ALL
I never stopped feeling like a child.
I never saw myself beyond 15
and when
I think
the voice is angry and comic,
biter and sad.
I never grew up, or that is to say:
I never grew
past the full belly
laughter,
the rolling in tall grass,
sweet toothed youth that I used to
physically be.
You look at me and see
a shabbily dressed man.
You hear me speak and
can gauge no angle.
You touch me and I retract.
I see me as lost in a world of faces
that have character I cannot
comprehend.
I hear me speak
with the quivering of a fear deep-seeded.
I touch me fetal for warmth
breathing smokes in hopes
that ghosts will come
in their trail
and show me where I have failed.
When I was young in body
I felt the genetic imperative
of a destiny,
the primal surge of a world
that awaited my greatness yet to blossom.
It's yet
to blossom
still...
I am afraid that one day
the adults around me
will wake up
and see the child
that has snuck into their midst
and fooled them into revealing their secrets.
I am afraid that when this happens
I will run back to the children
who would laugh and laugh
at my reports had they too
not grown so old; instead
they will shake their heads
and dissipate
leaving me waiting for a ride
that will never come
to a home
I will never have.
This face is unfamiliar,
these hands strangely rough.
This body on me is like some great joke
that I hope will go away.
And lo
one day it shall.
I never stopped feeling like a child,
I just learned to smile at the right times,
find the cruxes to the thrusts of the arguments,
so I have always been adrift in deep water calling for a mother like mad inside
but hiding behind eyes
like yours.
I had always thought more would come of me
when I grew-up,
became a man, and perhaps
I will be right but in the meantime
I'm holding my end of the conversation up
like a chameleon
finding wisdoms
that keep me young
in a kingdom of the truly old.
So behold:
I am revealed.
<3
REVSCRJ
I never stopped feeling like a child.
I never saw myself beyond 15
and when
I think
the voice is angry and comic,
biter and sad.
I never grew up, or that is to say:
I never grew
past the full belly
laughter,
the rolling in tall grass,
sweet toothed youth that I used to
physically be.
You look at me and see
a shabbily dressed man.
You hear me speak and
can gauge no angle.
You touch me and I retract.
I see me as lost in a world of faces
that have character I cannot
comprehend.
I hear me speak
with the quivering of a fear deep-seeded.
I touch me fetal for warmth
breathing smokes in hopes
that ghosts will come
in their trail
and show me where I have failed.
When I was young in body
I felt the genetic imperative
of a destiny,
the primal surge of a world
that awaited my greatness yet to blossom.
It's yet
to blossom
still...
I am afraid that one day
the adults around me
will wake up
and see the child
that has snuck into their midst
and fooled them into revealing their secrets.
I am afraid that when this happens
I will run back to the children
who would laugh and laugh
at my reports had they too
not grown so old; instead
they will shake their heads
and dissipate
leaving me waiting for a ride
that will never come
to a home
I will never have.
This face is unfamiliar,
these hands strangely rough.
This body on me is like some great joke
that I hope will go away.
And lo
one day it shall.
I never stopped feeling like a child,
I just learned to smile at the right times,
find the cruxes to the thrusts of the arguments,
so I have always been adrift in deep water calling for a mother like mad inside
but hiding behind eyes
like yours.
I had always thought more would come of me
when I grew-up,
became a man, and perhaps
I will be right but in the meantime
I'm holding my end of the conversation up
like a chameleon
finding wisdoms
that keep me young
in a kingdom of the truly old.
So behold:
I am revealed.
<3
REVSCRJ
The innerself speaks to the outter world. Children never grow up.
© 2004 - 2024 revscrj
Comments2
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Oh my god. I think you have written my favorite poem ever. It's just a mirror, really, but it feels more like some sunlight coming through a dusty window and showing me that the room around me needs an open door. Your candor is not wasted on me, friend. I feel you.
*thop
*thop