(May 16, 2015)
The death of my youth:
a fearsome, unstoppable beast,
I know is slowly approaching.
He’s been haunting the underside of my bed
ever since I can remember.
This handsome devil has seduced many like me
with empty promises of
legality to purchase cigarettes,
bars and booze,
homes and marriages,
children playing in the yard…
But I see through these tricks;
maturity is a burden.
The wild “freedom” is just waking up,
but in the bed of a stranger,
or in some alley way,
God knows where.
We had dreams once…
To a woman,
is marriage glorified slavery?
The valentines roses will rot,
dancing will become a pain to the feet,
he will forget your birthday or anniversary,
and sex will become boring.
You will either just stop doing it,
or drive down a path you cannot see the end to.
A path of dirtier, darker, unspeakable sex things.
But it’ll probably just stop happening.
You’ll be too tired from caring
for sleepless, screaming brats,
night after night,
trying to soothe them
from the fears of the monsters under their beds.
They’ll grow up to face him,
one day, maybe even love him.
And the cycle will continue,
with the juggling of fine glass mortgages,
job interviews, insecurities,
moving back in with the parents,
bills, credit cards,
and the car breaking down at the most inconvenient time.
And we will wonder
whatever happened to those dreams we once loved?
The ones that inspired us
to try for countless, prestigious universities?
Whether you dropped out or made it to graduation,
you’ll have just enough student loans to bury
But be quick, your kids have to be at soccer practice
in a half hour.
As we face our demons, now,
we try to not think of that.
We hold onto the unreality of hopeful outcomes,
like a protestant and a small bible
shoved in the shirt pocket of a soldier-brother,
it is our anthem
as we step into a dark, black,
unfamiliar black room;
a vacuum of endless possibilities,
and onto the stage
to accept our high school diplomas.