it was november 26th
and i was stadning at the doorway
waiting to go waiting to turn into a -----
with my courage in hand clentched down upon my chest
so as to fend off anynew comers who might tare at me.
but then i looked down at my worn boots and thought
if arriving at sixteen could be that much of a hike,
could dirty that many smiles hands, sheets, egos and boots
the rest of the way up is going to be twice as strenuous,
twice as insucure, with new people, phases, damp socks and
hopefully some new shoes.
i realized that it is part biological process part mental capacity
i can push but not to the point where i defy science
my moods will still be abit in-balenced
i can fight and swing in agony with teenage angst
but i wont climb any further.
At my age
Fighting is how we're made to do it,
so maybe the sucess secret is to stay still within my body
give myself a hugg and embrace youth and fling it to the sun
with bare feet once in a while
i can stomp it up out of the ground and summon it into things
im just discovering i have.
Just to say you are ok dearest darling of mine,
then wrench out the little fiona in a bottle in my heart
who sings all day and night to preech me another serman
and tell me to smile at the next boy i see.
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