I am not ashamed to admit that I am in my twenties
I am not ashamed to admit that I have wanted to rest well beneath the soil
And I am not ashamed to admit that as I write this,
that want has not been satiated
I know to some, my woes are nothing
But to those like me, where growing old is a luxury we dread
And being happy a forgotten past time,
Where time stretches outwards for far too long
Where we want nothing more than to sit in our flower bed
And enjoy the smell of the earth and
Feel the fingers of winter
There are those among us that want to avoid their flower beds at all cost
To pluck each flower from their soil
To pluck and pluck until they have a bouquet
Held together in bloodied and dirt-covered hands
While they run as far as they can
The cold air filling their lungs
The graceful rays of the sun enlightening their skin
Its warmth brazen
Their grip tight on their bouquet so that not
One
Petal
Will drop
I envy those of you who enjoy growing older
And even feel anxious that the time you have is never enough
I cannot remember the last time…
But I do hope I get out soon from this flower bed
And pluck away like you do
Before it’s too late