And I think that maybe twenty years is too much time to have waited
For all the words I have tried to tame
To leap from my throat; the tip of my tongue
And embed themselves where they were needed most.
And I think that twenty years is far too long
To have been sat down,
Until I am clean, and ready
For a world that was not built to take me.
With my fists, though tiny
And lungs, armed with nothing
But more words
Disguised as a scream.
And I think that twenty lines is much too long
To tell the tale of another (like you).
Also tired, and waiting
for the next move to make itself clear.
So perhaps we should part now, before the next twenty years make fools of us both.
And we are lost to the tremulous, silent passage of time.
(and before you say it, I know: it hasn’t been twenty just yet).
SF is a second year Environment and Urban Sustainability student who reaLLY NEEDS TO DO SOME HOMEWORK RIGHT NOW.