Coming of Age

by DBLevin

I’m trying to live while I’m still sane,
but everyday tests my patience
Conquering the morning sun
has become a chore
Dining on a feast
of forgotten future ends
has become my nightly ritual
and it leaves the taste
of frayed vertebrae
on my hopeless tongue

I’m dolorous perhaps,
for someone so young
What has become
of the boy who knew
the ways of the world
whose left hand never strayed right
and whose horrors were kept at bay
by the enfolding blanket of night