age 4
cheerleader i wrote down
my eyes squint because i smile so hard
my dimples appear as well
my penmanship is lousy
what i've written you can barely tell
age 8
professional athlete i wrote down
my handwriting is better
my goal more possible than before
my soul is filled with aspirations
i can't wait to see what i have in store
age 13
doctor i wrote down
my handwriting is good
my ambition and spirit high
my grades are full of As and Bs
and i barely even try
age 16
forensic medical doctor
my handwriting is professional
my soul a little worn
but my head is still held high
i refuse to be torn
now
alive
my handwriting is light
i turn the pencil to the eraser side
i quickly erase what i've written
knowing my mind is the only place i can confide
because i've spent so long
and worked so hard
to live up to expectations
set by god knows what and who
that i sit here today
my workload heavy
yet not have an inkling to do
my parents urge me to work harder
to do better than they had
asking why i can't work a little more
my sister my mother my dad
so i sit here quietly
doing what i can to keep them proud
but a part of me fears that all this work
will amount to nothing
because i won't be there to see it amount to anything.
YOU ARE READING
paradoxical
Poetryyears worth of teenage and young adult angst transferred from a ratty old notebook to this app --for anyone who also feels like everything they do contradicts the personality that they desire to be perceived as
