When you’re fifteen and suddenly you sink in this deep dark hole they’d tell you that you need some therapeutic drug to help you ease the pain. You think you would need some sharp object to remove the pain but what you actually need is just a simple hug. When you were five and when you cried they’d just hold you tight. What happened?
I wrote this when I was 15:
HERE I STAND TRYING TO FIGURE YOU OUT
Young and I admit I am naive…fifteen and now growing older.
I miss those days when I was five and younger
Boys were like germs to me and vice versa
Then came the double digits…I was ten
I started to grow curious yet stay innocent
Playing in the corner with my dolls, silent
Then came thirteen, they say I’m a teenager
I count the minutes that soon turns to days
My thoughts have changed more than my looks
My innocence shattered when these books
Finally taught me something useful
But that statement is just sarcastic
Unlike when I was nine, I’d be there and listen
But instead I’m here questioning my education
Then Came High School, they say you’re an adult
Crushes turns to broken hearts
The boy you only met has now became your only thought
The senior who everyone else admires caught your eye
Lessons ignored, numbers lowering, the heart yearning
The world seemed wider and bolder
Staring at the window hoping class would finally be over
Those days where I awake 6 a.m to watch cartoons
Are now the days I dread to get up from my bed
I wish I could take all those days back
Before the lack of sleep and books weighing on my shoulders
Before these pills came in my hands
I wish I was five again and only cry when my parents are mad
Cry only when my knees are scratched
Instead here I am crying for a simple boy
Whatever happened to just wanting dolls and toys?
Fifteen now…but this coming November
I am sixteen and college is drawing closer
Excited to escape and doubtful of the future
Because I am young and a dreamer
Why can’t I go back to being five?
When the world was scary?
When boys brought me no harm?
Instead of wanting to escape all of the time
I wish I was five and broken hearts did not exist
I wish I was five again…
I understand the poem. It is sad with age we become less fearless. Thank you for the excellent poetry.
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