The Day The Words Died

The day the words died in me,

They told me, I had finally grown up.

 

I had straightened out the squiggly lines on my palms.

Neatly arranged fate in clearly labelled boxes.

 

I had stopped filling my head with visions of imaginary storm clouds and cold rain.

I had stopped daring all of existence to turn around and hit me in the face.

 

But it is strange how I feel barely awake,

Barely breathing,

Lungs just partially expanding.

 

If you were me from before, you would worry.

If you were me from before, you’d shake me awake.

 

But I still smile when I see a storm coming.