Slipping Away



As a child I grasp the stars in my hand,

Autumn leaves mask the sky in crimson cloak,

My grip, loosens at my teacher’s command:

Ambition itches like poisonous oak.


The stars, once so close, drift farther away,

Winter’s snow paves the road, why am I cold?

My grip loosens, mother’s word I obey-

Stability, security is gold.


My vision grows poor, as the star glows dim

Spring’s touch revives the flower’s bloom, I cry.

My grip loosens, the world I hear is grim.

Your ambition, revise and modify.


I will listen no more, my dream my star,

My grip tightens, ignoring the world’s scar.


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