snehith   grown-ups

I leave you with this poem today:

We stare.
We stare right at it.
We stare right at it but never truly notice it. We still stare.
We are grown-ups.

We run.
We run away.
We run away and run after, which makes no sense. We still run.
We are grown-ups.

We collect.
We collect stuff.
We collect stuff that mean nothing to us and ours. We still collect.
We are grown-ups.

We talk.
We talk a lot.
We talk a lot, none of which is from the heart. We still talk.
We are grown-ups.

We laugh.
We laugh at.
We laugh at, and not with, anything but ourselves. We still laugh.
We are grown-ups.

We feel.
We feel so much.
We feel so much hate against others not like us. We still feel.
We are grown-ups.

We forget.
We forget a lot.
We forget a lot that we’re allowed to cry at all. We still forget.
We are grown-ups.

We are grown-ups.
We are sorry.

I wrote this a year ago, and called it “Grown-ups”, but am just thinking it could also be “Grown Oops”.