This is me trying

𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔

I am in my rib cage
with all the misfortunes
lined up to hunt me down,
the premonition starts to stare at me,
a visitor that I have no choice but to welcome.

He carries a memo of the shattered dreams of 17,
the pioneer of this blueness,
ain't surprised to be on my edge yet again,
giving too many fucks, a little about everything.

Oh, how mundane has living been since then,
oh, my wings, oh, my wings,
you flew away when
the light ran out of my eyes.

So, I bit my tongue so hard to lower the cry
that the taste seems so familiar
I gulped it with the misery
that doesn't seem to have an end point.

Young and free, this is what I want
Young and free, this is what I acclaim to be
Young and free, wish I could rewind time to 2:23,
so the monsters wouldn't be
under my bed at 3:00
that oh, lord
the palpitations rings inside of me
when I place my hand on my chest
to create a siren.

But, alas, young and free,
I am just a passenger here,
who always sees the glass half empty,
fallen in love with his own brokenness
that he craves for it to have spun
its threads into poetry.

I am just a passenger here
passing by through the whirlwinds,
who painted a stroke darker
than the way i usually carve my art with
but, still I rise from this ocean
and dance through these tears.

-and that is me being bold and content.