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Girl youthful, careless talking, acting, hating, dancing makeup, school, nature, city listening, caring, making, loving witsful, harmless Woman
Children are supposed to play, Not spend so much time wondering why they've been betrayed. At what age should a child be able to define dismay? How young is too young for a child to learn to hate?
Growing up I had a perception of the world, one that was filled with happiness, love, and friendship, but it soon began to slowly fade, just like past memories.
In my youth I'd chase things shiny and new Now I take care of what loyal and used I used to wander from place to place Always on the go Now I'd rather sit and ponder It is myself I'd like to know
Limbs numb, Hearing lost, Tears dried, Anger Concentrated, Frustration built-up, Spirit broken.
Wake up at noon to the sound of a birds. Mom and Dad don't nag anymore. Thrown in a world with no money, Hoping to find your way. Going to school, and Trying your best. That's me now.
Her love is a warm and unconditional gift, I cherish her heart, knowing it’ll never shift. She kisses me goodnight and tells me goodbye, Her voice is my favorite lullaby. My heart ached when I had to leave, But I yearn for the phone calls that I
Paint me a world where girls sustain from mirrors, where love is not weakness, and forgiveness is not taken for blame.
Some days are just different than others, Some are bright and clear But sometimes you release the pain, And shed a tear Lately, I've been talking to God more often, Asking him how I fit into all this,
Grow(i)n(g) Up The day I turned 18, I announced my independence from my parents. I’m a grown up, I say to them. They nod in agreement.
They tell me I don't know what it's like to be a grown up. That life isnt as nice as I have it and once I'm an adult life is hell. Let me tell you all something; I am grown.
There came a point last year when I realized I've grown; I wasn't the same person that walked through the front doors freshman year; It was as if the narative of my life had taken a different tone;
I have grown to hate my grandfather. I have grown to hate my grandfather. I have grown to hate his smile. I have grown to hate his smile that used to greet me with such kindness and authority.
i was young, crying, dad was nowhere to be found, i hit the ground and believe me, at such a young age, stuck in the gutter like it was a cage, going back to my roots, looking down on some fucked up shoes,
Vivid pictures; envision a soul, lost in the thoughts that'd keep a grown man cold, poor kid, just 16, livin in hell, fightin demons while he deals with the swells, of all the dangers and how cops fancy the cells,
Grown Minors by Jamal Ento It started out at 6 years old
Cracking open a bottle of sun block My nose tickles at the sunny summery scent Mom would smear it on my playful squirming body Every scorching weekend my cousins would run over
I wonder how long it took you to forget you had a daughter. To forget you were a man, to forget you had a backbone. Bones stacked in closet, I brought them back. Did you forget you created a stronger one. A woman one.
His green eyes look at me I am so in love How this boy own my heart He makes me swoon when he says my name I am his army I am his voice He is my pride He is my love
He left me half dead you know? He left me a drained girl who had drank from his love for well over a year. He left me hungry for love and affection for comfort and heat.
Ratta - Tat - Tat I hear you coming from your room, “how’d you get out?” I asked Rosy cheeks and a big grin a three year old can make, “I climbed down” he says,
The end of school is soon, But yet I don't want to say goodbye. When the clock strikes noon, I feel as if a part of me will die.
I'll hold you still, even still So trust me and this bridge we've built Made of wood and stones we haven't thrown I won't cast against you why you have grown
Think back…. Can you remember houses made of cardboard boxes Out of which came your parents’ new furniture from ikea Do you remember changing your names
i told myself i’d fix him show him that killing isn’t his path but he’s psychotic and poetic i guess i didn’t do the math.
Driving’ in his car, its amazing how the wind flows through the room. I couldn’t stop getting butterflies touching him. Why couldn’t it last for so long? I couldn’t help but to say goodbye.