eighteeneighteen years oldeighteen by ~AikiMiharu
bathed in "not yet"
clothed in uncertainty
perfumed with pinpointed doubt
primped with "time will tell"
and when time speaks, it'll be grand
your mother will be proud, finally
and curiosity will die out
as you take your desk job
and a touch of "what now?"
stewed in "what's next?"
boiled in boredom
seasoned with repeated sufferings
and served with indifference to self
and when a stray stars light
breaks through your concrete tower
will your heart move?
will your feet march out of step,
damn it, for once?
and find their way to the path
the Narrow, Haggard path you've
Continue?The paths I consider I look upon hesitantlyContinue? by ~AikiMiharu
I know of their ragged teeth and garrish ways
I want to be intact when I arrive there
when I arrive to a place called Contentedness
and I'll see You
You'll hold me and say "It's over
Don't worry any longer, you're already worn thin
The last thing you need is a paper-width
I'll stay enveloped in your rest, wishing for a life inert with You
Why?Sometimes I'll sit in this room and scale it's high, pensive ceilings with my voice: "Why?"Why? by ~AikiMiharu
The room shakes a bit but it is now prepared; I won't be jarring it this time. "Why?"
The four walls ponder. How can they escape that question? A leak, a fissure in the floor materializes.
The walls decide, one by one, to slip out of that sliver of a hole. Three walls left. Two walls left. "Why?"
I am left staring at a singular wall, its paneling abrasive, familiar. I reach out(it shivers); "Why?"
And I'm left with the unforgiving floor again.