There is a crushing vulnerability, weighing on my lungs.
My youth is obvious in my words, my idealistic views, my poetry.
I write and hope and dream and wish for a one day, that's far away, better than this.
School drawing to a close, days rushing by my ears, I lose touch with all I feel.
I devour as much knowledge as I can; letting sentences sink into my skin, over-analyzing everything.
Craving the touch of those I love, friends and lovers alike.
The future claws it's way into my eyes, daring me to be brave.
My arms span above me, like wings, stretching, wishing for a break.
I write essay after essay; each devoid of my aspiring voice..
I'm taking on the world, one step at a time, desiring to make it my own.
As I rotate on this ginormous blue sphere, my youth begins to show.
It surrounds me, a soft warm glow; reality cannot touch me.
I am a youthberry, bursting with joy.