Early Observation

The blemished, biased confessions of youth by a young someone. It's perceptive truth and brutal reality. Acknowledging one day it will slip through soft palms into wrinkled hands silently. Redrafted through hazy summer night in October.

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1. Early Observation

                                                                                                                                                                            
 

If youth is so precious
Why are the heart strings of the young played?
By anyone willing 
With little effort and abundant pain.

 

If youth is so beautiful
Why do the heads and stomachs of the young sink?
In a crisis of self-worth
When they fall prey to their reflections.

 

If youth is so innocent
Why do the young fight without temptation?
Only to prove a minor point
Against their parents, who no longer recognise them.

 

If youth is a gift
Why do the young try their hardest to feel nothing?
Every substance abused
As their family cry and pray at home.

 

If youth would be better spent on the old
Why do we long for the life of an adult?
With everlasting freedoms
Overshadowing the responsibilities that grew alongside us.

 

If youth is the time of my life
Why do I still feel like I’m in the morning?
Restlessly unconscious
Waiting for something worth waking up for.

 

Because young one, the youth are dreamers.
Unblemished believers in the possibilities of life.
Hearts of children and minds of adults
Too self-aware in their youth to notice it passing.

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