i am not polished.
i was never ripe.
i never went to college
and i remain contrite.
my arms are not for holding,
but for shoving things away.
my thoughts seem an endless record
&
my favorite excuses always play
in the unkempt diary
to my friends on the street
in the smokey nightlife hours
to the parents i still meet
life is a bag of sours for me,
a garbage can of regret.
and here's the worst excuse of all

"I don't think I'm ready yet."