I see my gaze in 10 year olds,
As if it had been that long,
Their princess shoes,
And ruffled hair,
Their small teeth,
And soft skin,
A juxtaposition really,
It mirrors our truth,
Our past in other words,
From where we emerged,
Where nothing else mattered,
Where you'd cry and welcome an endless hug,
Where you could gloat without being called,
Where people would smile upon watching you laugh,
Where you'd play with a ball and not be called a man,
Where you couldn't manage to come up with a lie,
Where you wouldn't even dream that someone you loved could die,
Maybe that is why its fleeting,
Why we're mere passengers of time,
Ignorant to the passing of our life,
Because every good thing too can be killed with a knife.
YOU ARE READING
an attempt at poetry
PoetryJust a couple words thrown here and there trying to, with ink, show what I mean. START W/ THE LATEST CHAPTERS PLEASE!! (I swear they're much better than the first ones) (I'm sorry for the first couple of ones jejeje) ps. English is not my first lang...
