Untitled

I can feel the youth fleeting
from my lungs and from my eyes
I can feel all the pressure of everything
I've ever done.
I can feel the age settling in and
when you're not around I can't help
but let it scare me.

So when all is said and done and
all those people I cared about
have gone and its just you and me left
I hope you'll hold my hand
cuz I don't feel I'm strong enough.

I hate this house when I'm alone,
all the laughter and air is gone.
It's just me and my head
and we're pretending everything O.K.
But really its an argument.

Do I expect to much of you to care?
Is it harsh when I'm disappointed?
What if every choice I make means nothing,
what if everything I've said will lead nowhere.

Four years is a long, long time when
you're in a dark place.
I guess this means I miss you
and everyone.

And the creeping emptiness that tries
to eat me whole.
I have to push it away with lies when
I don't know the answer.

One day I'll be regarded a poet,
I hope I can keep it together until then.