i am not the same girl i was at twenty-three
might be a sprout then but i am now a tree
too young to give up to old for half-love
someone come and set me free like a dove
who knew twenty-six would be such a funny age
met so many people who are not on the same page
my twenties are wasted being stuck in a cage
when living your life to the fullest is all the rage
wasted potential is my middle name
peaked in high school who is to blame
your sweet smile i captured in a frame
thrown away like i am an old video game
YOU ARE READING
Tulis or Write?
PoesiaOf love, hate, happiness and sadness. Sometimes, a broken heart is the best thing that could happen to a writer. A process of healing by writing amateur poems and short stories.
