The scars of youth

You never had an identity you'd tarry
you would wait for the bus kicking grass
empty head would fill with worry and futility
a special space
for heavy insecurities

Not knowing yourself
pushed to overthink to overcare
inside a different creature waiting there
face it you could never be sure
are those emotions in the mirror really yours

Spectrum of seasons 
atleast they knew themselves
acting within correct stages
of the equinox

From elders hear the long explanations

dying of thirst
a simplification to quench
finding yourself in familiar desperation
Blindness naivety and stinging infatuations

Crawl out of youth
certainly lies of a past tense

flexing from a strength
hard years of pain

each scar a language of considerable length

across the territory of the soul's surface skin