20s are about finding your soul.
Festivities, fornication, friendships,
Frolicking, finding freedoms,
Helping, hoping, holding onto things,
Hungering for happiness,
Juxtaposing juvenile values
With mature morals,
And now, at 22,
I can say,
“I am a citizen of a world
Where the glory for gold seems
Out of step
With the visions of God.”
There’s a place in my memory,
An awful waste of space,
Analogous to a perpetual prison,
Regrets are kept alive,
And over time, morph into dementors.
Eclectic group of Soul snatching villains
That bankrupt me of emotions
And other fragile treasures:
Innocence, naiveness, sincerity,
gullibility, and optimism.
If the mind was a farm,
They’ve neither cropped bitterness,
Not razed faith.
They have sown principles
I reap daily and thrive off of.
For they are my teachers.
Visit C.J.’s website at http://www.about.me/C.Hemsley.
What are your thoughts on this poem? Leave a comment below. Browse more original contemporary poetry about the human condition, or submit a poem of your own.