sky high poetry

at seventeen, couldn't tell me a damn thing
baby faced
starry eyed
freshly licensed

thought i knew it all, knew all well
restless, bit reckless
can't knock any sense into the senseless but dear god, they tried.

messy, headstrong, lacking in defenses
naivete's a killer as much as it's a lesson
fountain of youth feels eternal, endless
deep breath, blink of an eye and

i'm not seventeen anymore.

still youthful
restless
not quite as reckless
messy, headstrong
sensibly senseless

there's bills to be paid, stronger defenses
reasons, seasons, bright lights, dark trenches

living's a curse as much as a blessing
filled with love lust and loss, some divine intervention

know more than i used to
yet nothing at all
uncertainty's a given so into it, i fall

oh, to be seventeen, head so big, world so small
with a soft place to land
(on the concrete, i'm sprawled).

and if i could tell that baby faced
starry eyed
freshly licensed girl a damn thing,

she wouldn't listen, would she?