Self indulgent

If I told you things I did before
Told you how I use to be
Would you go along with someone like me?
If you knew my story word for word
Had all of my history
Would you go along with someone like me?
I did it before and had my share
It didn't lead no where
I would go along with someone like you.
It doesn't matter what you did
Who you were hanging with
We could stick around and see this night through.
And we dont care about the young folks talking about the young style
And we dont care about the old folks talking about the old style too
And we dont care about our own folk talking about our own stuff
All we care about is talking
Talking only me and you

I've come to some realizations about my poetry. I stopped writing, I fear, because I've been too afraid of being self indulgent. I am not self indulgent just because how I grew up but because I can't escape myself. I write because it is necessary for me to get things out of my head and I hope people in my generation can relate to my poetry. I know that most generations feel like the lost generation and mine is no different. But, I am from a generation of distractions and my writing stems off from my own distractions. Memories, dreams, unachievable goals. I am an attention whore, a rude observer, and a collector of both.

IF I WERE 17 AGAIN
Things that I know
And Believe,
Beneath
The underneath
In parks
After dark
Disguised as pirates.

Getting high
In back seats
Wishing
High school
Was less than a phase.
While we
Over act
In plays,
Missing after school white trash fights.

At a downtown block
A concert
In an era
Of dangerous parking lots
Believing in invisibility
In the light
Darkness
Of the city

Sitting up
To the setting sun
In a giant face
Finding
That it always brings
Tears
To my eyes
And not to yours
Under a closing sky.