PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

What the hell do I want?

God only knows.

I'm all over the place,

And I know that it shows.

At 22 years,

You'd think I'd have this down,

But it's like I'm five again,

Chasing boys on the playground.

And I think that I'm too old now,

For that silly childhood fun,

I'm just too slow to catch the boys,

I need one that doesn't run.

But for some reason when I find one,

I throw rocks and call him names,

I show him all my favorite toys,

Then I tell him he can't play.

And he goes crying to his mother,

And I go crying to myself,

And I put my favorite toys away,

Back on their dusty shelf.

Now I hope my mind can figure out,

What the hell it needs,

So it can let my heart know,

That it's ok to bleed.

It's time the valves opened up,

And let the feelings flow,

The next time I catch a good one,

I'm not letting him go.