Young
Sunday evening, writing down what’s on my mind
Young
We wanted to be older,
Old
We wanted to be younger,
Never once where we didn’t want to wonder,
From parks to beaches, our minds weren’t asunder,
The grazes, the bruises, they made us stronger,
Mum soothed “It’s okay, it’ll get better”,
Now we know, the white lies were shelters,
From the pain and suffering,
Why did I ever wish to grow up?,
To drive a car, to get a job, to find true love,
Younger me would’ve never found it tough,
No resilience, no desire,
What is the point of aiming higher?
Teenage depression makes us feel this way,
Alas not all of us go astray,
Why did I ever wish to grow up?
- Baxter Page, Apr 2022
About the Creator
Baxter Page
Student 👨🎓 | Writer✍🏽 | Caffeine Enthusiast ☕|
I’ve looked at many niches and have decided poetry expresses me the best!
I hope you enjoy my content! 😁
Twitter: @baxterpage_
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Final Call
She flings her arms around my neck and squeezes me like she’s never going to let me go. My head spins as her lips brush against my cheek. She must be able to feel my heart thumping in my chest. I shuffle backwards and ram my hands into my coat pockets, watching her reach down and heave the rucksack across her shoulders.
By Caroline Craven3 days ago in Fiction
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