Birds Nest
Well here I am. I'm almost twenty one; I've reached the end. Now I'm faced with all the scary things I've yet to comprehend. The idea that I'll be on my own searching for my quest, Terrifies my very soul and keeps my feet inside the nest.
I'm already drunk on all the alcohol I refuse to drink. Maybe I should take up smoking just so I can get some sleep. I despise the thought of staying up night after night. Thinking about the bills and rent to pay by candlelight.
But I'm sick and tired of all the troubles that my nest beholds. The unstableness and loving lies that I'm always being told. "I love you truly." they would say behind a bottle of rum, but Love doesn't mean anything if you don't know where it's from.
I'm on the edge of my bird's nest and I haven't got a clue. If the choices that I have made will help me follow through With the ideas that I've created and imagined since inception, By the end of this will I be satisfied with my reflection?

















