literature

Among you all

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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
The innerself speaks to the outter world. Children never grow up.
© 2004 - 2024 revscrj
Comments2
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thopper23's avatar
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