my how you've grown.

How much longer
Until we're all fixed up?
Until we're right?
All together
With our normality
Or scarless bodies
Or thoughtlessness
Or contentment
Or tiny universes
Or mature relationships.
Adults!
For benefit of the illustration,
I'm an aged man, unable to change,
Covered in my old wounds,
And set in my stubborn ways.
There are graves waiting for people like me.
I'm a child who refuses to understand,
Certain that this world is centered at my feet,
Not bothering with conventional things.
There are long-winded lectures waiting for people like me.
I don't know if I'm capable of fitting between,
I don't know if I want to be.
... Though sometimes it gets lonesome.