The Poetry Of A Young Soul.

The True Nature Of Maturity

  Maturing is like that of a growing tree
But I feel as though I haven't been given time,
The time to flourish, the time to grow and glow
I was never taught to let go
To let go of the dead branches,
And the invasive vines I cannot fit into a rhyme
the ones that seem to do nothing but climb

While my peers grow tall
I seem to do nothing but decay on display
And even though I have all I need to succeed
I worry I'm far filled with greed and so I plead
However in truth, I never wanted to grow
No matter how high my branches reach
I will always break and fall,
And that is the hardest truth of all.