Challenging Poetry

now I am six and forty, and oh, tis . . . confusing, true

before I grew up,
I imagined it would feel different
that one day,
I'd wake up and everything
would make sense
and the world would change shape
and I would have a bed
that was made every morning
and march off to work in
a suit that wasn't big on me
and the dragons in the back garden
would move away in disgust
at how responsible and sober
I was. but now I'm grown,
and the world is still
a strange and curious place
that I've not figured out,
even by writing poetry,
and nothing makes sense
but I live forward anyway,
and I still follow dragons around,
and my bed is still unmade . . .

Prompt ▼

Coming-of-age poem