Learning

Count hours.
Pangs-a-plenty that pace around the stomach
Through the bowels
Up the throat

When nothing;
No one can
Warn a simple being
Of the sickening, heart-dropping feeling
That comes with growing older

How there is an urge
To speak the tongue of hopelessness
Not trusting a spirit beyond self
To learn without a boost

Yet in selfish anticipation
The truth is but a spark
From realization

That all is a matter of finding
And none is that of being taught