You stare at your foolish reflection Who looks back at you, asking for grace No visible movement occurring But just underneath, in your mind, you're running a race Thinking I swear I lack a secret ingredient of sorts Wonder if it's lemon juice or lilac, a gallon or maybe two quarts Sorting photographs on your phone Metamorphosis comes right as soon as you think you're all grown Lovely moments spent all alone Reinvention, it comes right as soon as you start to feel known You stare at the dreamscape before you Who knew that chaos could move so slow The time will come for April showers And if you're not able to wait for the flowers May the petrichor get you by in the darkest of hours Thinking I swear I lack a secret ingredient of sorts Wonder if it's gratitude or time back, a cryptic nonsensical sport Sorting photographs on your phone Metamorphosis comes right as soon as you think you're all grown Lovely moments spent all alone Reinvention, it comes right as soon as you start to feel known