After my thoughts escaped the room
Through the windows
I was left with a remembrance of the ache.
A burden that is so familiar it never goes away,
In my dream I worry, will it come back?
My vigorous speaking doesn't help,
I imagine my friends growing into important figures
They become important figures
And my myopic glance is throttled further.
Doesn't growing up guarantee a thing?
The ink is again toned by war
Seismic inches crippling on each side of the border
But that's hardly news anymore
It's what we expect because we know
History, political science, current affairs.
I form an opinion only if there is an interview,
Else I let it fester
While I watch a sitcom in my bed alone.