My life, friends, is decent. Please don’t say - “no”.
For this I know, I’m only 20, but only ordinary
unlike those who touch something more
please don’t tell me - “I’ll figure it out”
that - “it takes time”
and that - “some of the greats had no real ‘plan’”
Plans make me feel productive. But I’m not
I just whine to those who are forced to read
You hate this, I hate this,
He, she, it, hates this
and by this I mean my poem
But I do like my socks
and some of my friends, who seem not to mind me
walking in the sun, rare, but not unheard of, keeps me better than bad,
than okay. I like what I have. And right now
it’s paper and ink and a silly grin.