Violence, sadness, life and love.
Enough memory to replay another twenty-four.
Time wasted, time lasted, time spent sublime.
Twenty-four years, and what was it for?
Ten years ago I died my hair black,
I remade myself to become my ambition.
Twelve years ago I made it back home,
from foster care where the youths go as prisons.
Fifteen years since I lived in the west,
In the American desert where religion seduced us.
Eighteen years since we moved to that place,
Since the first time I ever laid eyes on the mountains.
Twenty years now since my mother and I,
Lived together alone inside an apartment.
Twenty-four years to the day in which she,
Brought me to life so this list could be started.
The average lifespan of a man from before,
Before they had learned to last any longer.
As young as I feel, I quite frankly feel old.
There’s times I feel drained, though I’ve never been stronger.
I think I’ll be fine and my life will improve.
As long as I’m asking myself what it’s for.
I’m old and I’m young and I’m anxious to see,
What happens should I live the next twenty-four.