I feel awful
I smell some blood on my feet, its scent unmistakable
Whilst I stand here silently in a chasm of fear, a gaping uncertainty
Here I can recall..
When I was twenty-four,
Extended youth befalls
Brash, young, and full of spunk,
Charged with angst and loaded with dreams
Yet I’m not seventeen
I’ve passed the vale of years
Unto the trial of tears, the beach;
A breach, tasted bitterness and bliss
A blissful beast of a sweeping, weeping stature
What a silly, moronic contradiction of feelings!