I’m not young anymore.
A cold takes me out.Sore muscles take longer to heal.
My back hurts.
I’m not 14 anymore.
I am less sensitive to a falling out.
Lipgloss is the last of my worries.
I’m older now.
I pick where I want to go,
and when.
I do not need to be nice
or listen.
I do not cry
when scolded,
or when my way is not had.
For I am older now.
I am not young anymore.
I wish I held on to my ignorance—
That blissful blindfold of knowing
nothing.
The aging mind can only hold so much.
So the childish emotions must go.
For there are taxes
and debt.
A broken political system
and an achy body.
Grey hairs
and stretch marks.
A box of daily medications
and caffeine.
Ten thousand daily steps,
and microplastics.
On second thought—
I am young anymore.
I’m scared.
May I cry?
Does anyone have Ibuprofen?
