the year I turn 16
people fear
for varying reasons.
big brother is fluctuating,
changing,
nauseating to some.
the man with the greens
and a string around his finger
known as us.
I am aging.
I won't have my license
but to many I am a woman.
a young one.
my father is petrified of that day.
we escape a war,
however.
the year the grim reaper
was feeling rather lonely
and thought he would ask
earth's greatest
to accompany him.
the year we lost a professor,
a spaceman,
a princess I loved.
the year negativity won.
this year I'll put it back in its box
and bury it in my backyard.
last year left me bruised,
the year my pigtails got loose.
I suppose this year I'll let them down.
c.d.
a/n: happy new year everyone. be kind this year. kindness and peace.
YOU ARE READING
1:46 a.m.
PoésieA collection of poems, most written at extremely late, or should I say extremely early, times of the day, when my mind can truly bleed its thoughts onto paper.
