Days of Youth
It was the best and the worst timing.
Onto the toilet seat I was climbing,
When you asked for seven —
Seven minutes in place of heaven,
But you really deserved more.
Out of the seven minutes, it only took four
To confide in me the sour truth,
How your days of blissful youth
Were taken away from you.
I was breathless. if only you knew
How hard I tried to disconnect, disassociate, disengage
The vindictive devil on my shoulder’s palpable rage.
I lament that your days of youth will never come back.
I yearn to see your tormentor’s hide on the tanning rack.
But here I am, divided,
Afraid to lead you misguided.
They are three grains of sand
Amongst the thousand in my hand:
What you want, what I want, what is best,
Peace, violence, and the last I can only guess.
Just know: whichever you choose,
I support your choice of tattoos, curses, and booze.
Because gone are the days of innocence, white lies, and half-truths.
Gone are the days of our happy youth.
