round, starry, sponge eyes,

burst under spiderweb lashes.

dark scrapes on the knee

make war paint from life's crashes.


full, furry eyebrows,

tattooed with a crayola green,

marked during doodles

of the monsters unseen.


apple juice sticky,

but grinning from ear to ear,

not five years old,

leads life with love, foreign to fear.


today is special.

"darling, tell me: which will you choose?"

"Mommy!  I'm grown up!

There are laces on these shoes!"

Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741