You ramble in a fog of anger
pointing fingers
at those you believe collared you
and stole your youth.
Is it because you can’t bear
the thought that you’ve wasted your adulthood?
In youth, you had flair,
garnered praise,
were placed on that pedestal
that everyone dreamed of.
But when life became real
and everyone fought demons,
were yours too strong?
Or did holding to them tightly
add to your edge,
make you different,
give you an out?
I can still hear
Your laughter,
See your smile,
Feel your presence.
I wish you peace…
Tori Burris Inkley
4/20/24
Tori Dreamer 