Vapid child

Loaded up with love and nurturing the gun-shot wounds of a youth
spent dodging your bullets,
And how we've all changed,
How we've all grown,
You picked me from the ubiquitous sea of faces,
And I was happy and cryptic and loved,
With everything decided at the toss of a coin.

But "time waits for no man" I heard it uttered,
And we turned to rolling dice,
As age provided more decisions,
As if she were just waiting for me to arrive,
I became malcontent, more cryptic and pushed love aside,
Finding a feeling that made me darker,
Like night time or the colour of my eyes,

And as I write I no longer use dice,
With a lonesome twist my brain ferments over these thoughts,
As hearts, clubs, diamonds and spades begin to shape my fate,
And I spin and weave around the outside of my problems,
As they become more numerous,
Origins unknown, solutions unreachable -
I am the vapid child.