This must be GROWTHIt's neither about an increase in size,nor the comeliness of my thighs,a lesson on puberty,or how time flies. It's an enlarging on the inside,though unseen by mere eyes,but cannot be denied,I speak of a strength supplied. See, the old me,would speak at the slightest provocationof all that depicts a piece of my mind,without consideration for your person,recognition of your place and with indignation for your class. 'Okay, I understand'Instead of a description of your kind.Those simple words still expressing the depths of my heart. Yes, that heart checking-is this true?is this kind? is this pure?is this right? is this honourable?is this of a good report? Days not so far away,
you needn't a mate,to tell your fate.My face was a display,from disgust to disdain, and backa record hack. These lips are now sealed,tongue cleaned.This face is now on Him,set as a flint.And when she walks on the corridor of all that's old,those muttering lips arecries for help to stay controlled.