Childhood
The days at school playing tetherball, kickball, and handball
I miss you
To waiting to wait to get out of school to go home and play
I miss you
To the nights playing freeze tag outside on the streets until the lights came on
I miss you
To the nights of building tents with sheets, and seats from the couches
I miss you
To pretending the floor is lava
I miss you
To the hot days of waiting for the ice cream truck to pass by
I miss you
To coming home with dirt on our face
I miss you
To playing double dutch in school
I miss you
To having races against our friends to see who was fastest
I miss you
To the jumpers, and slippery slides we had
I miss you
To thinking monsters contained alcohol
I miss you
To all my childhood memories
I thank you
About the Creator
Merjaunie Lena
I write to express, and clear my head, it's my therapy.
It's not perfect, but nothing is
Being able to vent without a filter is the best way to go.
I am not a professional writer
Check it out 👇🏻
Keep reading
More stories from Merjaunie Lena and writers in Poets and other communities.
Lost Lonely Girl
Sweet little girl wanders the streets alone, pacing up and down the same street never leaving pass the same block. She can't seem to figure out who she is looking for as she starts to panic. Her head spinning with confusion, as the tears start to stream down her eyes. She shouts for someone, but no one seems to respond. As she looks to the left and right of her she sees the streets get darker and darker, until that one light post she stands under is only on her. Her anxiety begins to kick in even more, " What is happening " ?! she screams, but still no one is able to hear her. " Can anyone hear me "?! she yells, but still no response. She tries to walk out of the lonely street, but it seems she just keeps going in circles back to the same spot. Until finally she gives up, and sits under the light post with her head crouched into her legs. It's like a never ending path that she always finds herself back here time and time again. She tends to wander off to the last place she remembers that her life was simple and happy, but every now and then she seems to get lost. She hears a voice in the distance, " Sweetie are you alright "? As she slowly picks her head up to see who it is talking to her, but there is no one there. " Hello can you hear me" ? It's that voice again, but she doesn't seem to see anyone. " Yes I hear you "! As she circles around hoping to see who is shouting out to her, she closes her eyes and counts to 3. One, two, three, as she opens her eyes she fades back into her reality of sitting at the dinner table with her family. " Sweetie are you okay " ? her mother asks her. " Yes mom I am fine, sorry I guess I spaced out". You see she was never lost, she tends to get inside her head all on her own and make herself feel that way. It's a coping technique she uses when she feels stressed, she'll remember her happiest memory, but when she can't focus on just that one memory she gets lost in her head, and creates all these unnecessary emotions to make her feel lost. It's always mental, as you always battle with yourself mentally each and everyday, just try not to get lost and lose that battle with yourself.
By Merjaunie Lena2 years ago in Poets
"Whoever that wish death on me will be the first to di£ unless I'm guilty of what you people are accusing me of" — Sam Larry
A lot of fans are still mourning Mohbad's death months after he died. The news of his death shocked Nigerian citizens and his fans in the diaspora. People love Mohbad for being calm as a dove, and his lyrics were also second to none.
By Hassan Arewa2 days ago in Poets
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.