i’ve been told that i’ve
got an old soul
from the day i turned six years old
just shy of twenty-five
i’ve been told that i’ve got wisdom
far beyond my years
i’ve been told i’m too young to be this bitter
so i kicked it into gear
i’ve been told that i’ve got too many bruises
and scars for teenage dreams
perfect dates and walks along the river seine
but don’t we all, really?
’cause i’ve crawled on dirt ‘til knees were sore
and typed until my wrists ached
i can feel my bones cracking
under the weight of possibility
i’ve been told i’ve got an old soul
made of velvet, plaid dresses
oxford sneakers, soaked to the core
heard it said as a compliment
felt more like a declaration of war
i’ve been told i’m an old soul
staring at my face in the mirror, and tracing out the lines
‘cause i’ve been talking with the big kids at the dinner table
since the day i turned six years old
strained at booster seats and easy reads
and anyone who offered out a hand
quick to be slapped away
i’m always straining at myself
too fucking stubborn
to stop, and wait
and breathe in the air
feel the grass stains on my knees
laugh lines and scars i have yet to receive
and now it’s almost over, i just want to stay
i want to go back and do it all again
fuck ambition, fuck chasing dollar bills
since the day i turned six years old
’cause now it’s almost over, i can’t wait
for none of it to matter
all those sleepless nights
i spent biting my nails
and pulling out teeth
a crumbling sandcastle
washed out to sea
not gone; never gone
not really
you tell me what that means