Three hundred and fifty eight

Is a big number,

Three hundred and fifty eight days ago

Was a very different time,

Just think about all the things that

Hadn’t happened yet,

56,597,034 people were still alive,

over a billion children were born.

It’s a cycle, but sometimes I feel like

I was left behind.

Three hundred and fifty eight,

Is a big number,

But sometimes it’s like it never happened

At all, sometimes it’s like near a year

Flew by and forgot me, like I had never

Been a part of it, like it had skipped over me.

I think about all of the days that had passed

And out of all of them, I can only pick a few.

The days that mattered, that were crucial.

But now, I can’t even pick any.

It’s like I’m not even here anymore,

It’s like I’m invisible.

Here three hundred and fifty eight days ago

I was on this very stage, reciting a poem

Not too different from this one,

Three hundred and fifty eight days ago

Was not so long.

But now I feel old, I, twelve and way over a half,

Feel older than dirt.

And not one day ago, I was writing this,

Hoping I’d place high, but is it even relevant at all?

In this next year, I will be gone.

It’ll be like I was never here at all.

I can’t even explain what went on in that time,

But I know it was something. It was something big,

Like three hundred and fifty eight days ago,

A number that, now that I think about it,

Is not so big at all.