Twenty

I scroll through paulo coehlo's tweets
before bed, his peace dazzles me,
and I wonder how he did it

A lot of my writes state that I'm 20,
but none of them tell you the truth
about it

I'm twenty, and still as confused
as I was when my chest started to swell, still as lost as I was when blood stained my underwear for the very first time

still full of self-hate
still full of terror

I'm twenty, and not together
not one, not whole.

twenty and still

hungry for joy.