the weight of time upon young skin
how gravity ages us
she thinks about youth and beauty
it’s all she knows
then time passes her by in years
she’s old now
youth went too fast
I gave you my youth
I give you all my wrinkles
My youth, My wrinkles
I gave, and I give all I
have without expectations
You were always the kid pushing boundaries. At school, some said you were the “it” kid.
You started to change at fifteen; eccentric cool turned into conservative stoicism.
You receded into yourself, and I could not get in, although I tried; now you look through me, or not directly at me.
Where did you go?
I’ve asked myself this question so many times; each answer appears insufficient to me.
Then, we saw your face on the news one hot December morning; you got Tangled in Treason.
You had a beard, wore your hair long, and your eyes looked haunted.
Where did Matthew go?
You lost your uniqueness and that spark; you receded inside and then became something new.
Why did Matthew do that?
You had a vest strapped to your chest as you entered a town square. The explosion sent you to forever, or I know not where.
What will become of Matthew?
You killed yourself and a whole town square for them; cannon fodder for a lost cause.
Now, as the rain falls upon my face, I cry for you and your lost soul; it wasn’t worth all of that to die at fifteenth.
I see such a waste of humanity, and I remember so much horror when I think of you today.