QueenBee

Her

With long brown hair

Golden when caught by the sun

A smile that goes miles

That lights up the stage when she performs

Him

With curly black hair

Glasses

Brown eyes

Hard to reach

And then there were two, 

Sitting on a bench by the bus stop.

Waiting.

Watching.

Two kids - teenagers - then young adults.

On different sides of the same story.

One representing tails

A bracelet.

The bracelet.

There's a difference.

For me, my bracelet is the bracelet.

The bracelet of my dreams.

Of my story.

Of my past.

Of my life.

Growing up isn't something you enjoy

Unless you're, like,

Five,

And the world is still golden,

And you can't see

The hourglass

And the grains of sand

Falling

Falling

Back to school

Isn't back to school anymore

But it feels like it is.

It started a month ago

A month and one week ago

And still it feels like the first day.

I came from sixth grade. 

I don't know

If I'm the only one who has these things

But I figured I'll write about it anyway;

After all, the whole point of writing

Is to share

Your life

Your story

Your perspective