why can’t my heart be filled?

why can’t my heart be filled?

with a breath or two or perhaps even three?

will I ever learn to fly and touch

the top of the tallest tree?

why can’t my mind be filled?

with kind thoughts or anything but concern?

will I ever learn to swim and touch

the bottom of the darkest sea?

I am twenty-five and a couple days late

to this party called life;

they’re all popping balloons and screaming

on top of their lungs.

I am twenty-five and perhaps on time

for this party called life

I celebrate differently.