Life is a kind of Mystery
Nobody know what tomorrow brings
In these chronological feelings
You can find yourself in any country
But you didn't choose to live in
You can meet many challenges
But without making changes
You become silent
This yet yields no new event
You look on the other side
And you don’t see the right corner
It seems that things get dizzy
No plan no hope no future
You ask how you can open horizon
And touch your destiny
But the way is too long
You feel the pain
And becomes hopeless
Mostly brings reckless
But think positive
Life will be lucrative
About the Creator
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley5 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.