mature.

they tell you 

“you’re mature for your age”

hiding behind decades of wisdom 

experience 

life

it happens to be 

those simple things:

good posture, 

i type properly 

i can hold a conversation 

when at least i try

and yet

no one tells you of the

trecharary that will come

the impact of the fall

the discrepancies of

the writing on the wall.

natured and nurtured 

to be something i am

of yet someone i’m not

and as the thought 

of the gravestones i have passed

and crossroads elapsed 

and the red lights gone too fast

the white flags raised half mass

as those silly words leave 

those common lips.

maturity marks nothing 

but the time i spent bluffing

over blushings 

and polite small talk 

and hazed sleep walks 

in the wake of someone i used to know.