Grown Up

GROWN UP

I mean, am I actually,

Really competent at anything?

How does it feel to be a grown up?

To know, I mean really know, 

That you’re not bluffing, 

That you have a handle, 

That you know how to read the map the right way round?

To navigate the maze and treat

All things in the proper way they deserve–

Tell me–will I ever master anything?

I keep hearing about potential,

But what good is it if it’s never realised?

Is authority–the right to speak and have others listen–

Just on the other side of that door?

I mean, I fear the floundering, 

The floating through the world and

Doing nothing hitherto undone, 

And of being content with that. 

I’ve only got a couple dozen thousand days

To become someone!

But who am I becoming?

How am I becoming?

Through what means will I become this

Man you say I am?

I want it. 

I don’t want to bluff.

I can’t afford to. 

Maybe the world can’t afford me to. 

I’m just sick of being pretty good at most things

And above average in others–

I want to excel.

I want to grow up.