Final And Done Poem by Julia Luber

I always feel like there was some drug I had when I was young
that fashioned my brain according to a great feeling about life.
That enabled me to develop the most splendiferous crushes.
That enabled me to master skills and things I took a liking to.

I guess those Drugs were Being Young and Very Naive and Confident
and very naive and thinking myself sophisticated and so completely
naive. I think about how if somebody had told me about me now back
then, I would have never understood. and worse, I would have been afraid.

I would not think life could extract what seems to be the most difficult qualities
somebody possesses and exploits them into being some purpose …..for what?
For what? For what, perhaps shall never be known. For what, for what. That this
has all been a terrible waste seems only to be for purposes of not even a

whole line of a poem. But a half sentence or maybe merely a couple of words strung.
It is on this waste that life feels to have become, that I feel to be final and done.