Words always carry meaning.
You can’t weigh a word,
So I’d say it weighs nothing,
But I know better than that.

Sometimes I think of everything I know,
And I wonder,
What will I know,
When I’m old.

I know a lot now,
At seventeen,
What about when I’m seventy;

Will I want to know it all?
I don’t like all of what I know now,
So I doubt I’ll like it all then.

I don’t like knowing about suicide,
At least I’ve never seen it,
I haven’t seen a lot.

Maybe that’s a person’s true age,
Not what you know,
But what you’ve seen.

I haven’t seen much,
I wonder if I will,
And if I do, I wonder what it’ll be.

I really haven’t done much,
And I truly I hope I get to,
By the time I’m seventy one.
I don’t feel as if I will,
Maybe I’ll across this,
At sixty two.

It’ll change my life.
I’ll write down all I know,
Add in all I’ve seen,
Then get on to the doing.

I’m young,
But I think I have a lot of old worries,
So maybe,
When I’m old,
I won’t worry at all.

I get scared of my skin wrinkling,
It frightens me so,
And I won’t talk about dying,
Perhaps I should just focus on living.

I’m only a child now,
I should enjoy it,
Not worry about what lays ahead.

Instead I’ll lay my head,
Dream a lovely dream,
And when I wake,
I’ll just go day by day.

And when I’m old,
I’ll know what I’ll know,
No point in wondering now,
I can’t possibly know!