You can’t be me, and that’s ok, 

You really should never want to.

But I know I can’t be you either. 

And trust me when I say, so many times in my life I wished I was you,

This mind is a weighty burden upon my aching back that I try manage,

But you seem so happy, so purposeful, and here I keep crying alone.

I was too old when I was young, and too young as I got old,

But being out of sync has at least has let me touch my heart,

And within my eyes my intention remained clear throughout.

For old comes young that sees you’ll be young again at old age.