R ight now I feel alive.
Not the wild way.
Alive as in breathing,
Smiling when I should
And doing as I’m told
I miss when I was really living
Not recently.
Barefoot, digging holes,
Laughing as loud as I wanted
Not even caring what I looked like
I’m afraid of growing older
Not because of wrinkles or work
but because i don’t want to forget
how it felt to simply exist
I’m scared to forget who I was
When every birthday was an accomplishment
Not a loss.
Maybe it’s okay.
Just maybe alive
is just the beginning
of finally living
