Life is

.. less complicated when you're older. I guess the hormones of youth can make one a drama queen. Found this undated "poem" written in my personal journal I sent A as a gift centuries ago. I barely recognized the "poet."

My lips taste like a hundred years
of bottled up bitterness
My ears hear cries of weary children
in agony of a life that shouldn't be
These hands I call mine
can only touch a world of wasted lives
Each bulging vein reminds me
of life spent in complete dissipation
including my own
My feet tread on acres of barren land
where the wind is chilling me to the marrows
of my breaking bones
My nose forgets the scent of a coming rain
in it permanently resides the acrid smell
of burning humanity
Dusk is settling to where my eyes see
a mass of vultures, of people
hungrily waiting for my fall
In the shallowest regresses of my soul
lies the shadow of a smile
And I wonder why did the love have to die
Why do we all have to sigh

Geez!