• I’m only three
    I’m always free
    And I hold on to my childish dream
    that I’m going to live forever.

    Seventeen now,
    everything’s different. How
    did it change so much?
    Now death’s a known concept
    but one I’ll never accept.
    Despite common belief,
    I know I’m not immortal
    I know more than you think
    I’m simply in denial.

    I want to be like the old tree
    for the tree has seen more
    than me.
    Oh, Mr. Tree, enlighten me
    bring you leaves and branches near
    whisper you secrets in my ear.
    Cleanse me of my ignorance
    for it’s useless now
    that I’ve lost my innocence.

    Wrap your roots around my head,
    plant your memories within my mind
    so I can see
    the foolish men, the senseless bloodshed
    and the repetition again and again.
    I want to live a thousand years
    so I can be a piece of history
    walking down the street,
    opening the eyes
    of all the blind people I meet.
    not the history
    stuffed in a book
    on a shelf somewhere
    hoping someone may take a look.

    No,
    I want to be
    the kind of history
    that’s in your face
    shouting
    with emotions strong enough
    to lift the world
    and loud enough
    to wake every other piece of history
    with a valid opinion
    and a brain.
    Shouting,
    “You
    are
    wrong!
    You’re making a mistake.”
    And they will listen
    because the trees and I know best.

    An eternal life,
    my childish dream.
    All childhood dreams die in the cold
    as I continue to grow old.
    I can never forget this truth
    but I will always hold on to
    my youth.