Look at me through sixteen years
Look through the things
That you don't have to fear yet,
What you're not even near yet
Or even better will never have to know.
If I could show you everything now,
And wrap your heart in guidance
Then my misalignment
Would forever be excused by it.
And sorrow salt can call for quiet
On the set made by an amnesiac.
I've forgotten my well hidden scars
From falling asleep on transcontinentals,
Washing my plastic, and living on rentals.