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.