Walt Whitman
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I feel electric walking through a park engulfed with happy princes, children skipping, people playing to their laughter. singing strings of guitars in this park the mirth of drooping spilling coins in their cases.
I belong to myself and only to myself
While it is a great responsibility, I proudly take it on.
I, now twenty-years-old in perfect physical health
Need to remember this when darkness envelopes my mental state
I hear America singing "freedom" for everyone.
I hear their hypocritical songs, singing long through the night.
I hear the rich belting their greed-filled, boasting songs
i hear the world screaming, the sickening wails i hear;
those of the hopeless—each of them a separate and eerie tune
the homeless shouting his, humble and strong as he walks through cold and empty streets
I dedicate myself to public speaking
Peaking subtly along with the days and nights and weeks and whatever comes next
Sometimes I talk too much
It’s not enough to always think after I
Open my mind up,
“There was a child went forth everyday;
And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.”
