My Poetry

12

Chapter I - Birth

You were told from right to wrong.
You were told everything will be alright.
You were told there's nothing to cry about.
You were told to be yourself.
This is what you were told.
These words full of gold.
This is what we were taught.
This isn't what we thought.
This is what we fight for
This isn't why we are sore
The smell of roses are coated with drips of blossom.
Their appearance are beautiful, until they wither
When they wither, they die, and they are forgotten.
Sometimes a child is the same way.

That one little girl that you bullied was probably being abused. That one little boy that you bullied was probably killed later that day.

You are different than anyone. When someone posts you in their sight, you know them differently rather than their mother. If you heard that the person killed someone, you believe it and you would stay away from them. Your reputation can be anything.

When you grow, you wish you were younger. Some kids wish they would grow up. They want to take control and they don’t want to be slung around anymore. Whilst us wishes to turn back time. It’s strange how most people think differently.

You cry because you can’t get what you want. We cry because we can’t get what we need. You cry because something is wrong. We cry because we pretend nothing is wrong.

Chapter II - Growth

You wanted to make friends.
You wanted to rule the world.
You wanted to be the best.
You wanted to be yourself.
You got into school.
You thought you were cool.
You were teased and ignored.
Most of the time, you were bored.
I wanted to be tough.
But enough is enough.
Like a flower, it grows and develops.
It stays alive with care and water.
They are glowing and bright.
Sometimes a child is the same way.

The sad truth is that whenever a new student comes to school, they have to say the first line, otherwise they’ll be ignored.

Your life is like a thousand shards that put you in a million scars. As you look a million stars, your life has ran out of restarts.

Why is it that whenever something passes, one approaches? One thing after the other is something that we have said in outer lifetime. If not, wait for it; You’ll wish you’d never say those words again.