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