By: Sel Kute
I straddle between the tangible and non-existent pains I feel/
Deliberating with my own consciousness,
Engaging in verbal conflicts with the person I am supposed to be/
Mirror cracks from every time I make eye contact with this little boy, green eyed with star lights on his agenda/ I emotionally drain this kid, drain him to the bare bones of someone I no longer remember/ someone I chose to dismember/
The truth is that I have not become the idealistic concept of the ideal me/ somewhere on the path of development I have had to deviate from the generic blueprint of a perfect boy, a perfect son, a perfect brother, a perfect me/ rather I straddle between the tangible and non-existent pains I feel, all while trying to keep the surface clean/ the fourteen-year-old dreamy duplicate has manifested into the topsy-turvy twenty-year old original/ half-brilliant, half pretender/ not the little green eyed boy with star lights on his agenda/ not the little green eyed boy with star lights on his agenda/
A simply inflated mind and physic living in a complex minimised world at constant competition with his presented self/ yeah, that guy is me, that two month old magazine collecting dust on the newly released shelf/
What used to be pencilled scribbled imagery, is now pens, papers and worried thoughts making up my emotional weaponry/ rhyme scheme?, right now that’s secondary/
A scared kid, living in a courageous adult world/ even a little green eyed kid with star lights on his agenda, has fears/
If it all ended today, I wouldn’t have lived a day in my life, I would have merely existed for twenty years.
A myth like the 31st of November/ a myth is this kid, with star lights on his agenda.
The myth, that is the little green eyed boy with star lights on his agenda