they

they say these are the best years of my life
but i all i can feel are my arms melting off
and the rest of me growing runny
they drip off and form putrid puddles flanking me
puddles of lost oppurtunities,
the ambitions, the great realization, the loss.
theyre maturer puddles now,
they know what they have to do now;
at least they think so.
some asshole drove by while i pondered this,
and splashed me with my own motivation
ick.
this obviously shattered my reverie,
so armless, i walked down the street