Tossing and turning,
can't sleep again.
Smoking is my habit,
and my only sin.
Stuck in the mud,
knee deep and in pain.
The memories are haunting,
and I'm going insane.
Staring at nothing,
because nothing is blan.
The path to being rich,
or just another poor man.
Wondering how I can be,
the best that their is.
When perfect isn't anything,
and were all just kids.
Waiting to grow up,
to take a new chance.
Knowing is nothing,
when you take a glance.
At where we are now,
from where we have been before.
The growing and the changing,
wondering how there could be more.
But more is a value,
an UN written book.
So we can fill in the pages,
and be thankful for the path we took.
Ryan Nigh
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/whaat/
