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Turn on Glenn Frey

A poem about 23

By Carrie CasePublished 4 years ago 3 min read
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It was the year I turned 23 that I had to figure out how to live with ease.

The tequila was flowing and bullsh*t was blowing.

They finally invited me in on our way out.

What an end to a four-year bout.

They gave me a certificate and told me to be on my way.

I couldn’t find the road out…much to my dismay.

The summer was one of empty lakes and confusing dreams.

I was the star player of my own losing team.

My skin got darker as my life only got bleaker.

It was the year I turned 23 that I had to figure out how to live with ease.

But it took a while to get out of my prison’s lease.

I stressed, I worried.

I let all of my fear dive into my soul to be buried.

I wrote and I drank but I could only draw blanks.

I read and I heard but I could hardly listen.

I dreamed for the stars, finding their way amongst the sky.

I dreamed I could find convince others to join me.

They simply all said goodbye.

I wrote, I heard, I played, I worked towards a distant goal that wasn’t even mine.

I searched for heaven but hell was always just over the line.

It was the year I turned 23 that I had to figure out how to live with ease.

But it took a while to heal from a life-long disease.

The pain came and it never left.

The scars on my wrist show off that risky bet.

The future got darker as I peered ahead.

In front, it grew clouded with dread.

I faced my demons and my angels.

I faced my dark, barely mysterious desires.

Something of a paradox.

Standing on paradise’s splintering wooden docks.

They said it would all work out.

Just like Petty once said.

But life began to feel like the unending drought.

They told me it would be okay.

They told me not to worry.

So why was I always in a such a damn hurry.

I was 23 and I had no idea how to live with ease.

Heartbreaks, distrust and the land of great earthquakes.

He left.

Only Linda understood love’s great theft.

Reality swooped in like like a great hawk.

It hit me, it broke me.

I could no longer walk.

I listened and believed grand deceit.

And at the end of that November eve, it felt like it was going to guarantee.

I was 23 when I figured out the key to ease.

I stopped believing all those lies.

And I learned to turn on Glenn Frey.

I wrote. I created.

I found trust I had long awaited.

What was lost had finally been found.

My heart was healed. My mind awakened.

I finally started to gain ground.

Freedom was finally in my eyesight.

The desert road was ahead.

And that southern sunrise grew so very bright.

I was 23 when I discovered that I needed to ease.

I left my fences and finally found my best defenses.

I stopped believing all those lies.

And I learned to turn on Glenn Frey.

Those wheels in my head stopped spinning so much around.

The keys were left at the front mirrored desk.

And the diamond queen lost her precious crown.

Some wounds don’t ever heal.

They stick around like an Achilles heel.

Others mend but leave a scar.

Those remind us never to lower life’s bar.

I read the trail. I filled up on gas.

These days and these nights I couldn’t fail.

The corner was calling and I couldn’t pass.

Hurt is life and life is hurt.

But thats the way it is.

That truth is how I made it to my first concert.

This last year is the end of a long Hunt.

But now it is time for my very last stunt.

With myself, I might have to be blunt.

But I saw Dennis Wilburn and found that common front.

A cardinal bird’s eye view.

A feature finished not on cue.

The uncool and cool came together too.

I was 23 when I saw how to live with ease.

I stopped believing all those lies.

And learned to turn on Glenn Frey.

Who knows what the next year will bring.

I’m living in a pandemic but at least I can hear Jackson and JD sing.

I’m armed with hope, wisdom and new discovery.

But I’m finished with giving myself a full life summary.

Goodbye 23. You’ve been a rough one but at least I can say that with ease.

It was the year I stopped listening to all those lies.

And now… I just turn on Glenn Frey.

Come on 24.

Let’s just rock n roll

heartbreak
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About the Creator

Carrie Case

Something of an UNCOOL paradox. Viewer of the world and searcher of stories. Hillbilly Hippie

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