Because maybe its about love
And how i feel so much better when you are around
But you arent here
Maybe its about frustration
And how fallign asleep seems as easy
as balancing on one foot while the other is above my head
How counting sheep turns to counting frustrations
And words i wanted to say
But was too mature to say
And how the words held back itch in my throat
About how its hard being the adult
Especially when the acutal audults are acting like children.
But maybe it should be about pinky pormises
And how i promised you i would try to sleep
Or how i thought writing this poem would help me sleep
Perhaps it could take the spin of
how bad my spelling gets after 1 am
Or how thereputic writing on a keyboard is
Or why that is
But for nnow its a jumbled mess of
Im tired
mostly Im just tired of being the mature adult
But someone has to be.