Waiting to Live

A short poem about growing up and forgetting youths ideas.

  Reaching inside you,
  feeling hate cascade out;
  so much so I would doubt.

  If only we died today
  we could fly away.
  floating up, we'd look down,
  blowing kisses to two holes and
  ideas that lay.
 
  But if todays not that day,
  we'll curse a debt called youth
  so grandiose we pay.
  To believe in a place in the sky.
          Far, far away-