I don’t know how to act, how to be
like a man who’s lived over thirty.
I nap like a twelve I eat like eighteen,
I still think like a delusional twenty.
I wonder if others are just oblivious
of their shackles they think are virtuous.
Striving to meet the adult expectations,
They act their life with endless imitations.
And I dont know how to act, how to be
like an ideal person supposed to be.
My riches are petty, victories paltry,
A million things remain yet to achieve.
If we count eight hundred days per year,
Will being ‘sixteen again’ cease my fear?
The fear of my choices, chances and dreams
fading forever in time’s eternal stream.
‘Cause I dont know how to act, how to be
like a warrior following his destiny.
Every fall attests my mediocrity,
And I question will I ever be worthy.
But all the worldly norms and notions
are fleeting specks in cosmic commotion.
A life of norms is a life of banality,
Stable it might be, but lacks vitality.
I care not now to act, neither to be
like a caged soul craving to be free.
I fear neither age nor uncertainties,
Come what may, life’s a blissful mystery.