If I Don't Write This It's Not Real

You're feeling like you're better
But suspect that you're worse
Past the age where we still compliment each other's looks
'Cos we're no longer sure if it's nature or man
That glues each other together
You're supposed to know other things are more important

Even now it's not quite real to me yet
But it grows more dire each year
I see footage of when It all started for others
That's already a decade old

And still I won't get it till I get it

I’m a foolish child deciding I’m not ready
To know what these things are really about
And someday soon I’m sure the decision will be made for me
I’ve always felt songs were for sadness, not parties
But never for sadness this deep
More for playacting and makeup and sex and things
Monopolized by the young

I want another decade with a fully formed brain
Before the real departures start
It's nothing but privilege I've had till this point
Able to live grown with the whims of a child
With those who made me
Content to keep silent in the wings
Just thankful I survived
All of those raging youthful things

Like visits to the scenes of old crimes
And devaluations of my own mind
But let's be real
The next ten won't be like these were
(Looking roughly the same and caretaking none but myself)
No, these will make me tap into a wealth
That may or may not prove enough
I brace for a tax on my self


Nights now I suspend myself in amber
So my limbs float beside me nearly numb
And I gently fall down a hole in the dark
And words hit me at new angles
And I've always thought I'm not long for all of this
Which gathers more clout the further from childhood I drift
Way back when, when some of my pain was pretend
We sat at the edge of the buzzing green woods that pressed in
And you smoked beside me
And ash fluttered down on my shirt
And you apologized but let it happen again
I'd give anything for the harmless young pain I had then