fourteen*

Woe is the child
That turns 14
When life was already lived
Before he was keen.

Woe is the soul whom
When asked why he cries
He shuts down
Shuts up
And rolls his eyes.

Woe is the boy
Turning 14
Scared to lose himself
Nowhere to be seen.

I see you.
I hear you.
I love you too.
But I'm afraid to lose you
Far too soon.

Yours, Vivere.