A Collection of Youth

Leaving my friends house,

I’m still in a rouse.

Chowing down on hot chips,

Tasting the salt on my lips.

Singing so loud my voice is nearly breaking,

I can barely feel for my heart is aching.

Now only just getting home at midnight,

The stars are dancing in the moonlight.

My bed is so soft and cozy,

Too bad I will have to mosey.

For now the weightlessness of sleep,

Soon the annoying sound of beep.

Waking up in the dark,

It feels like I’m the only spark.

I move like a ghost,

Eating my morning toast

Driving out of town,

Making barely any sound.

Blasting the heater,

For the mornings are bitter.

The sun is barely peeking over the horizon,

I feel as though my senses are heightened.

Late nights and bleary eyes,

A collection of youth that dies.