I wish my madness
Extended beyond High School Angst.
I wish my insanity
Had more substance.
I wish the way I feel now,
Would matter once I've lived ten more years
And felt things much harder.

But mostly,
I wish I had endured enough psychosis,
To write

Just like Robert Frost.

How I wish I could string together simple words,
Like
Snow
And
Woods,
And have the sense to walk in them.

And someday, have everyone know those words that I once thought in my head, then wrote on a tablet, then punched in on my loud black typewriter.

I wish I could be just like Robert Frost.

But those kinds of words and sentences, ­poems and sentiments,

Only come from truth and experience.

So I can't be just like Robert Frost.

Because my madness, my insanity, my feelings,
Are just those of someone
Who has not really experienced …
Well, anything, really.

Yet.